


All that stays is madness

by IAmNotOneOfThem



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe(s), Bondlock, Character Death, Fluff and Crack, Implied Torture, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Let's just say a lot of prompts and some are pure crack, M/M, Mpreg, Some angst, Suicide, Taken prompts, Torture, Vampires, Werewolves, You know tagging it all would take too long, and some fluff, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 235
Words: 163,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotOneOfThem/pseuds/IAmNotOneOfThem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Prompts from tumblr, describing James' and Q's life from different perspectives, in different situations and even from other worlds...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "00Q prompt. James is one of those human-heaters, he's always warm. Q takes advantage of this since he gets cold really quicky and half of the times doesn't realize."

James hadn’t even noticed that Q had moved, but suddenly there was a lanky, bony body being pressed against his side, curls tickling his chin. Lifting his eyes from his book, he could see how the quartermaster’s eyes were fixed on the screen of his laptop, fingers flying over the keys.

Long ago, he would have asked what Q was doing. While he appreciated the contact, did it mean that Q wasn’t angry at him for loosing his newest gun and earphone anymore, he was confused about the reason - Q really was anything but a cuddly person.

It had happened before, and since it became colder and colder outside, winter approaching with white flakes raining down the sky and leaving a glittery mess of ice and brown snow on the streets, it happened more often.

Q would shift closer, shivering and lips being slightly blue, or just cuddle against James, curling up and wrapping his body around the agent’s, and would just proceed doing whatever he had been. Reading, typing, destroying a nation’s security system or economy, drinking tea, mostly sleeping.

Really, Q was just a heat seeking suction pad and Bond was fairly sure that he didn’t even realise it.

Q pushed up his glasses with his index finger again, giving a silent noise of annoyance, indicating that something didn’t go after his plan. He shifted closer, until his legs lay sideways over James’, shoulder pressed against the elder’s chest.

Bond wrapped his arms around him, moving until Q was settled comfortably between his legs, the younger man’s back pressed against James’ chest, and Q made a noise of pleasure as he was surrounded by warmth.

Bond smiled fondly, thinking that maybe this time Q actually knew that he had broken his own rule of ‘No cuddling’ while he was working.

Probably not, but not that Bond was complaining.

En contraire.

Bond lowered his head, pressing a kiss on Q’s head, burying his face in the mess of dark, soft curls, pretending to not know that Q was using him as a human heater.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "prompt: q is a single dad. =) (very short i know...)"

„I didn’t know you were a father“, Bond said, staring down at the child staring at him.

Q chose to ignore him, being too busy preparing something to eat for his daughter and maybe, if James was lucky, for him too.

The child was staring at him through wide, innocent eyes, but Bond could tell that deep inside her brain, behind all those unicorns and fairies and whatever girls at the age of two were thinking about when they had time to, she was already planning how to destroy his life.

She just looked like a potential danger to his and Q’s relationship, Bond could feel it and his gut close to never betrayed him.

She would make a good spy, too cute to resist and probably already able to wrap the minds of men and women around her finger. Everyone was laying on the ground to her feet, while she happily sucked on a lollipop and watched the newest episode of ‘My little pony’.

“She won’t eat you, you know?”

Q still was facing the fridge, back (and well-formed arse) turned to Bond’s direction. He really was trying not to stare, because he had the feeling that Q’s daughter would know it and make sure to tease him about this day in a few years when she would be old enough.

“You cannot possibly be sure. Maybe you have been raising a cannibal and she only hasn’t found flesh worth eating?”

Now Q did turn around, raising his eyebrow at Bond. His daughter made a happy, loud noise, clapping her hands together and letting her puppet fall.

Bond reacted before Q did and bent down, picking the doll up and offering it to the tiny girl. She looked at him, and for a moment he thought that she had narrowed her eyebrows, and then reached out to her toy, grabby hands trying to get it, eyes wide and shining with tears.

James had to admit that she was cute, in some strange way. He gave her the toy and watched how she got happy again, like Q when he got his laptop back after recharging.

Bond smiled, not seeing how Q was looking at the scene with a fond smirk on his features.

And also not seeing how the agent behind the surveillance cameras made a sound close to “D’aaaaw”, hoping no one had heard him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Bond's presence unnerves Q's staff."

Q without Bond stalking him was like breakfast without tea - it just didn’t happen.

A fact which the staff around the quartermaster had have to learn on the hard way. The double-oh’s presence was anything but calming, especially since he seemed to be on a personal vendetta against each of them.

It was… unnerving, really.

No chatting about how cute the two looked together, because one could be sure that James Bond chose to enter the room in exact this moment.

No annoyed ranting about Bond and how he destroyed each bloody gadget, always lost the pieces and forced each of the employees to stay in the lab longer than written on their contract. Because Q would surely hear it and make sure to personally program a virus into the person’s computer.

No entering the office without a knock anymore - no really, forgetting to knock was the worst thing the ‘minions’ - how Bond had labelled them - could do. Worse than accidentally giving the enemy a code to let the MI6 explode, worse than coffee spilled over gadgets or plans for new weapons.

Because Q’s body was Bond’s to see, and Bond’s only. And he didn’t care if someone entered and accidentally saw a glimpse of Q’s butt or any other part, or even only a bit of skin, because Bond was a jealous prick and probably was responsible for the sudden disappearance of a young woman having walked in into a scene which could have been straight out of a porn.

Well not straight, but you get the idea.

It was unnerving and concerning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "00q prompt- Q and Bond play video games, but Q is cheating because he's reworked the entire system."

‘Finish him!’

Bond narrowed his eyebrows, nearly letting out a frustrated groan as Q’s character ripped out his own one’s heart, the blood spilling in a ridiculous way.

Next to him, his boyfriend smirked proudly, pushing up his glasses to the bridge of his nose, only using his index finger. Feet tucked under his body, barefooted and lanky body wrapped into a blanket.

Bond tried to remember why he had agreed to play video games, really really tried and failed, but Q had his ways to make James agree to whatever he wanted.

“Another round, James?”, Q asked, voice dripping with sweet and honey-like sympathy, as false as the skin on James’ chest - flame wound, skin not having been able to recover. “Oh come on, this game should be easy for you.”

Muttering something under his breath, Bond just pressed a button, eyes moving quickly over the character section as he tried to find the best one available, being watched by Q who just smirked.

Maybe he should have told Bond that winning against him was impossible. Not only because Q had a far better hand-eye coordination than the agent, but also because he had broken through the games’ security systems and had rewritten it.

Really, the publishers could have been able to find the… mistakes Q had taken care of. It was rather nice of him to help them, and clearly not for his own use.

‘Round 1 - Fight!’

Another five minutes later, Bond’s controller lay somewhere behind the TV screen, abandoned just like their current match which they have paused.

Angry sex always was the best, so Q wouldn’t tell James that he wasn’t that bad at playing - he just was bad at telling when Q had cheated or not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Another 00q prompt, if you're still taking them! x This one's angst. Q turns up at 007's flat, in the middle of the night, crying his eyes out. (For whatever reason, it's up to you), Bond comforts."

“Q?”

The quartermaster said nothing, only stared at Bond with wide eyes, swollen and red, tears constantly rolling over his cheeks, no ending in sight. His skin was pale, even paler as usually, and he looked as if he was about to sway.

James took no risk and wrapped an arm around the younger man’s waist, dragging him inside. None of them said anything as James practically carried Q to his couch, stripping him out of his coat.

Something was firmly being held by Q in his hand, knuckles white and arm shaking violently.

Whatever it was what had made Q cry, whoever was responsible for his, Bond would make them pay. He would make sure they would never see the light again, and that they would never have the chance to do /it/ again.

Maybe he should have asked what was wrong. Maybe he should try to get the reason for Q’s tears out of him.

But Bond knew - probably better than anyone else - that words didn’t comfort. Words hurt, words carried lies and insults and a man of action like Q would find no comfort in whatever Bond could have said.

So all he did was making sure that Q knew he was here. He made him some tea, and then made Q sit down on the couch, ignoring how his body protested, how James’ vision blurred for a moment before he blinked the exhaustion away.

He had a mission tomorrow, and would have to leave early, but it wasn’t important. Not now.

He wrapped his arms around Q and allowed him to bury his face in James’ neck, held his fragile, vulnerable body while it shook in silent sobs, Q’s mouth working silent screams without any noise nor obvious reason.

And if Bond could hear a whispered name as Q’s desperation grew louder, sobs actually audible, he pretended not to and just held him closer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Q comes on a mission with Bond to distract (seduce) the mark while Bond gets the target information/whatever. Bond has to keep himself from intervening when things get... rough. Maybe while listening in on an earpiece."

Another moan, another high-pitched, female grunt.

Bond stopped in his motions, having to force his hands to stop shaking in… in what? Anger, annoyance, jealousy or desperation?

He had no right to be angry and he knew it.

He had no right to be jealous, nor annoyed, because Q had to go through the same every time Bond did what he now was doing.

James shouldn’t be, this was a mission, it was for Queen and Country, it wasn’t anything personal and he knew that Q wasn’t enjoying it - “Vaginas are icky, double-oh-seven, I will /not/ enjoy it.”

But with every moan coming from the mark, his concentration faded more and more, and was replaced by anger.

“Focus”, a female voice hissed into his ear, and Bond felt a bit amused by Moneypenny’s disgust, “He has to listen to that every time.”

Bond knew that, and that made the situation worse.

xx

Later that night, as Q came out of the shower and out of bed, he cuddled against James and sighed loudly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“But you are angry, James. And it’s understandable.” Lips suddenly were on Bond’s, muting whatever noise he just had wanted to make, the sentence he had wanted to say dying on Q’s lips. “No, stay silent. For Queen and Country, James, all that matters is to whose arms I returned this night.”

He gave James’ arms a squeeze, then turned, pressing his back against James’ chest and falling asleep. James smiled softly, kissing his hair softly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chibura asked: "Could you accept this prompt on 00Q: Recently Bond has seen several Ti Vi Ads and posters on the streets portraying a beautiful male model. Bond freaks out when he realize that is Q undercovering as a model. Bond gets jealous (extremely), of course since so many people starts to notice Q now."

It took Bond maybe seven times of passing this particular ad to realise why this face was familiar. But as he stopped in front of the huge shopping mall, eyes falling on the face behind the glass, blue eyes staring at him, it all became clear. 

Now he also knew why he had thought that the boy on the picture was kind of cute, only to wonder since when he had such thoughts.

The boy on the poster was slim, yet not bony like most models were nowadays. He had dark hair, messy and slightly curly hair (looking as it has forcefully been smoothened out and tamed), dark blue eyes and pale skin. Wearing a shirt, a sport vest over it and some old jeans, having a few tiny holes and a few spots of dirt on it.

Bond stopped dead in his tracks, eyebrow shooting up to his brow as he realised where he knew him from.

Slim - like Q.

Curly, dark and messy hair - like Q (yet it was shorter).

The same eyes, the same body Bond had came to know better than his own, the same features.

It was Q.

There was no time to wonder why he hadn’t noticed it already, why he hadn’t seen it the first time he had passed this poster in the last few weeks. No, there was no time for that. He turned around, nearly bumping into a woman as he walked faster and faster until he was running, ignoring the glances he got from people close by.

There weren’t many explanations being satisfying enough to calm down his anger about the situation.

Either Q felt his salary wasn’t high enough and he needed some extra money - unlikely, since Q cared about anything but money and possessing, all he needed was a laptop and he had seven.

Or he was undercover, which Bond hoped he was or otherwise he would end some lives before breakfast.

In fact, he would do that anyway, because why had no one informed him about Q being on a mission, Q modelling and Q showing off his body to random people on the street when it was James’?

It was no surprise that Q still was at home when Bond opened the door - only to bang it shut again within a second - with him being a lazy bastard who didn’t come out of bed until seven, when he had to get ready for work.

“Care to explain why I saw you being half naked on a poster in the middle of London?”

Q hardly reacted, or he did and James was just too angry to see it. He only cracked an eye open and pulled one of his earphones out, a deep voice murmuring the sentences of a book Q was too lazy to read on his own.

“I am sure I haven’t been half naked, those aren’t even printed yet.”

Bond raised his eyebrow, calmly counting to ten. Ten hundred. Then thousand, but it didn’t help. He felt the urge to shoot someone between the eyes, and considered to grab his gun and go amok, but Q sat up with a sigh.

“It’s an undercover mission, James, the posters will be taken down immediately once it’s over. Really.” Q held his arms open and Bond sat down, ignoring Q’s look of distaste as he brought some dirt on the duvets. “I didn’t know that you’d be angry.”

“Of course I am. Everyone can see you.”

Q raised both eyebrows. “They could do that before.”

“But no one saw how handsome you are until now!”

Bond was sure he should have felt insulted by Q’s silent chuckle and the kiss being pressed to his cheek, but he really couldn’t care as Q sat down on his lap, straddling his thighs.

“The very intimate pictures are for your eyes only, James, don’t worry. I might print you a calendar, but I’m sure you wouldn’t work on anything but your cock with that.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a-bloody-big-ship-00q asked: "Prompt: Sometimes I wonder... What if Q was not the Quartermaster, but one of the villains?"

It was cold as Bond opened his eyes, but when wasn’t it?, and his head was throbbing painfully, a feeling in the back of it, making thinking hard and painful.

His arms were tied and so were his feet, ankles and wrists cuffed on the chair he was sitting on - no, not a chair, a couch. At least someone had mercy with his sore muscles and his back, someone polite enough after knocking him out cold.

He had, not surprsingly, no idea where he was or who he pissed off this time. a mission as boring as this couldn’t possibly involve ten armed and muscular mininos kicking him down the moment he entered the hotel in which his mark was supposed to be.

A hacker, of all things. Too smart for his good, too intelligent and unfortunately for his life, capable of hacking into the MI6 servers without activating any alarm or causing any problems - he was just there, teasing them from the shadows.

Come and get me, he had projected on every screen, every phone and every printing file two days ago, and here Bond was.

“Ah Mister Bond”, a posh, young-sounding voice suddenly said, its source unknown to Bond no matter how hard he focused, “I did hope they would send you and not some other agent, everyone else only would have been…”

A door was opened and out of it, a young man stepped into the room, dressed in a black suit, glasses too big for his face, eyes wide, innocent but holding something cold and amused in them, hair appearing as if he just got out of bed.

“Boring.”

“Who are you?”, Bond asked, not really impressed, but feeling uncomfortable knowing that this man probably had an IQ from over 160, and therefore shouldn’t be underestimated, which he obviously tried to make other people with his young and naive appearance.

“Why don’t you take an educated guess”, the man said, sitting down on the chair in front of Bond, hands folded over his lap. “But then, it must be hard while the drugs are wearing off, so allow me to introduce myself.”

He gave a faked bow, titling his head in mocking politeness. “Call me Q.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "00Q TEACHER/STUDENT AU PLEASE. i'll love you forever."

Professor Bond was one of the most annoying, self-loving, arrogant and stupid teachers on the whole world.

He was ugly, far too old, had wrinkles and scars all over his body and probably a tiny cock he tried to hide by playing like he was god’s gift to humanity.

He was ugly. Not handsome. Ugly.

Nice attempt, but you already lost this game.

It had started quite innocently, actually, with a handshake and a smile. “I am your new teacher, Professor Bond.” Nothing out of the ordinary, and not only he had been given this introduction but everyone in the course.

Then, the occasional smile during a lecture, Bond’s blue eyes fixed on Q - how he called himself - while he was talking about the Navy, weapons, how it felt to be stabbed by a knife and be shot at at the same time. He didn’t look at everyone like that, no.

He only looked at Q like that, like he wanted to eat him or lock him away somewhere, to never let him out. It was something dark, twisted and so beautifully wrong that Q’s fantasies changed and that he imagined Bond’s voice when he brought himself to orgasm.

They had known each other for a month when Bond first asked Q to wait for him after the lecture was over. He had none for the rest of the day, the others all were before this one, so he had only shrugged and still sat on his chair when everyone was out.

“I hope you won’t mind”, was all that Bond had said before Q had found himself bent over the desk, with a thick cock up his arse and a hand covering his mouth to mute the moans and cries.

It had happened again. And again. And again. So often that Q almost wondered why they haven’t been caught yet. And why he risked doing it, when it could cost him his whole career in the IT section.

But he found himself saying Yes over and over again, or no when Bond smiled at him, no one in the room with them, door locked and blinders down.

“I hope you won’t mind”, Bond said, eyes sparkling in amusement.

“No”, Q said, and it began again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Q listens as Bond gets tortured during one of the missions and when the agent came back suffers a break down."

The sharp intake of breath was the only proof of what had happened, the only proof that Bond wasn’t, like they had thought at the beginning, putting his mark into bed, but being tortured.

The connection had been cut an hour ago. It wasn’t unusual for double-oh-seven to just disappear and not come back into contact for hours, either because he was with his mark, in a situation where a voice in his ear could cause trouble or when he wanted to be alone.

The latter happened far too often, for Q’s taste.

But then he had been back, suddenly, when Q had prepared himself to go home and monitor him from there, the laptop already waiting on their king-sized bed. Bond’s red dot had appeared on the map, and then he had moaned.

Some minions had rolled their eyes, others - who had have the pleasure of listening to Bond putting people to bed (Q still had to blush at the thought that they had listened to them once, right after a mission with Bond’s radio not destroyed for once) - were suspicious. Something was off. Q knew better than any other people how Bond moaned when he was aroused - either faking it or the real, genuine sounds Q heard in their bedroom.

This was something different. He was being tortured.

Hours later, after moans of pain coming from Bond, the sound of flesh burning, metal hitting bones and skin breaking, the panting in Q’s ear and his blood running cold, it was silent.

Bond’s red dot disappeared.

xx

Two days since the last signal had been online.

Two days since Q had last seen or heard anything from James, M and everyone else sure that he either was dead or on the run. Maybe he plays dead again, some of them said and Q made sure to give them the worst virus he knew, maybe he found someone and doesn’t want his Quartermaster anymore.

Q had no time to listen to any of them. He was busy tracking James down, looking through hours of video recordings from security cameras all over Japan, where James’ mission had been. He didn’t sleep, nor eat, hadn’t left the office and his desk since three days.

Eve tried to drag him out, but he didn’t move. His minions grew worried, some having asked M if he couldn’t do anything.

No, he couldn’t. Officially, Q was on ordered sick leave, and actually shouldn’t be there. But everyone here knew he didn’t care, and every time another one returned from break or came to work, they shook their heads when the question about Bond’s well-being arose

It was three days later that Bond returned.

It wasn’t the classical way of appearing in the office with his “double-oh-seven reporting for duty”, but it was a close call.

The red dot appeared again on the map, moving and in Britain, even in the corridors of MI6 again. He was moving down to Q-branch, quick, without caring about some agents asking where he has been, about some trying to make him go to the doctor.

He left a trace of blood as he walked, his suit in pieces, burning marks on his skin. New scars covering his skin, nearly no spot without a wound.

Yet he was walking, and even capable of opening the door to Q-branch where he walked straight towards the desk Q was standing in front of.

“Q”, he said, and that was when Q broke down.

He began to cry and scream, hiding his face in his hands as he covered it with them, legs giving in and sinking down on the ground. Bond immediately was on his side, covering his head with kisses, burying his face in the wild curls and wrapping his arms around the slender frame, not caring about how it hurt to move an inch.

“I’m back, Q”, James mumbled, holding Q as he cried and shook, “I’m alive.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Are you still taking prompts? If so, could you write something with Q or Bond sing a sad lullaby to the other? I looove the other prompts you've filled already :)"

“You should sleep”, Q said softly, standing behind Bond who was laying on the couch.

He had been there since he had been forced to leave MI6, M not having a mission for him and his broken shoulder not yet healed, sulking and staring at the TV like it would explode any moment.

It was an almost cute sight - almost.

Bond was wearing the ridiculous pjyamas Q had given him this Christmas, covered with printed Christmas trees and snowmen, somehow ironic regarding how addicted Q had been to the latest Doctor Who Christmas Special and the snowmen there. His chest was bare, like he wanted to show off his muscles and scars, knowing exactly how it made Q want to cover the skin in lovebites and hickeys, but the shoulder made it impossible.

It was teasing, childish, and so typical for James.

“I’m not tired.”

“You are, your eyes are falling closed almost every minute and I’m sure you can’t tell me the name of the show you are watching.”

James’ eyebrows narrowed and he stared at the screen, a cereal commercial aired and some children being chased by a fox or wolf, he couldn’t tell. Q smiled, knowing when he had won.

“It’s about… movies?”, Bond tried and Q sighed, sitting down on the armrest next to him.

“No, they make fun of different things. But close enough, the last task was to make fun of a movie…” Q shook his head, then stroked James’ short hair. “Come on, stand up. Let’s go to bed.”

Getting James to bed was surprisingly easy, now that he was under the influence of morphine and lacked of sleep, having been awake for fifty-seven hours straight. Q put him into bed, wrapped the duvets around him and then joined him, cuddling against him.

James wrapped an arm around Q’s waist, pulling him closer until Q’s back was pressed against James’ chest.

“What now, do you want to sing me a lullaby?”, James asked quietly, smirk audible in his voice.

Q sighed, thinking about it for a moment. But then he began to sing, voice clear in the silence of the room, Bond’s breath on his neck and his warmth comfortable.

“Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes and safe these questions for another day. I think I know what you’ve been asking me, I think you know what I’ve been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away…”

Q sang until he could hear the soft inhalation of breath, the peaceful rhythm and rising of his chest. He smiled, covering James’ bigger hand with his own, voice getting more quiet and smile fading, replaced by a somehow sad expression.

“Someday we’ll all be gone, but lullabyes go on and on… They never die, that’s how you and I will be…”

He too closed his eyes and doze off, dreaming of pain and tears and death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (GoodNight My Angel by Billy Joel)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "00Q Prompt: Can you write something where Q has to suit up and accompany Bond out into into the field where Bond is supposed to seduce some woman. Bond's seduction tactics don't get him anywhere with her. Q's shy and quiet demeanor on the other hand... (Bonus points for Jealous!Bond)"

The whole night, Bond’s eyes lay on the mark and not on the Quartermaster sitting next to him.

No, he wasn’t staring at the suit he wore, showing how thin and slender he was instead of hiding it like his cardigans did. And he wasn’t staring at the way he had combed his hair back, the messy curls gone and smooth, only slightly curly hair left.

And he wasn’t staring at his arse, so wonderfully emphasized in those trousers.

No, he wasn’t staring. And he certainly wasn’t jealous.

Not about the fact that his attempts to flirt with the woman he was supposed to seduce to get closer to the target - a rich man surrounding himself with beautiful woman - and his inner circle haven’t been of any use, nor about how she had showed him the cold shoulder as he had tried his old tricks.

Charm, invitation to a martini, flirt and praise her beauty, nothing had worked.

James wasn’t jealous about how she seemed to be drawn to Q, sitting there a bit away from James and sipping on his alcoholic drink like it would turn into a snake and bite into his tongue at any moment. He had no idea why - yes, Q looked surprisingly appealing this way, and Bond had already have thoughts about getting him out of each layer slowly, kissing the revealed skin and cherish him - she was so interested in him.

Really, what was so interesting about a shy, quiet and blushing young man who was obviously much younger than she was?

There have been no information about her liking toy boys, Bond would have found that out.

The mission had taken an interesting turn, and no, he wasn’t jealous.

xx

It wasn’t jealousy which made him shoot into her head later as she magically let a gun appear from the depth of her slip, nor jealousy making him shoot a second time just to make sure she really was dead.

Q sat on her bed, eyes wide and a few drops of blood on his cheek where he hadn’t been quick enough to flinch backwards at the shot, chest rising and sinking quicker than usual.

They had the information they wanted, Q had somehow made her talk (and no, Bond didn’t growl at the hickey on Q’s neck, nor attacked it the moment her corpse was carried away by MI6 agents and the two were alone) and they would have to see how to proceed now.

Maybe they would send double-oh-three in, now that Bond’s job was over.

Not that he cared, because there were much more interesting things to do.

Like taking off Q’s tie, wrapping it around his wrists and kissing those lips until they were red and swollen, or attacking the hickey with his teeth until he had marked Q as his.

It wasn’t jealousy which made him fuck Q into the mattress, and mess up his hair until it was normal again and until the other women or men in the hotel wouldn’t stare at what was Bond’s, it was…

Alright, it was jealousy. But Bond had every right to.

Q was his.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I adore your 00Q ficlets! Thank you fir writing and sharing. Would you do a D/s one too? Q being the sub longing to submit and Bond longing to first take him apart and then care of him? But if that isn't your cup if tea, all fine. Thnx!"

“I didn’t know that you were into that, Q”, Bond said after watching Q take off the collar around his neck, the leather probably warm where he had been wearing it for hours, long before Bond had found him in the club.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, double-oh-seven”, Q still had his back turned to James, showing off his beautiful arse, the curve, and it all made James want to fuck him against the wall until he would sob and cry.

Maybe he would exactly do that. Maybe not. He wasn’t sure yet, but he knew that tonight he would make Q beg for his cock.

“Like you being a sub.”

“Yes”, Q mumbled, taking off the bracelet around his wrist, far too thin for anyone but him to wear it, “Like that.”

Bond had seen many people, had been with some wanting to submit and be taken care off. He had seen the longing in their eyes, how they were graving to please, eager to submit and wanting someone to obey to. Bond had seen the expression dozen times already, but never had it been as visible as in Q’s eyes, almost desperate.

He needed it, wanted it, and Bond was willing to give it to him.

Standing up in a smooth movement, Bond stepped behind Q, wrapping a hand around his throat, easily being able to. Q tensed underneath his touch, and in the reflection of the mirror, Bond could see that his eyes were wide.

“On your knees”, Bond ordered, voice deep and rough, like steel, slipping down Q’s frame and embracing him, forcing him down.

It was almost surprising just how quick Q was on his knees, lips parted and eyes wide, lust-blown as Bond stepped around him to be in front of him.

“Have you done any of this before?”

“No…”

Bond lifted his hand and slapped Q, hearing how he inhaled air like he had been punched in the stomach and all air had been forced out. His pupils dilated further, and his trousers not hiding his growing erection. Bond smirked for a moment, before his expression turned hard again.

“No what?”

Q stared up at him, before he realised what Bond wanted from him. “No sir, I haven’t.”

Bond’s fingers, having rested on Q’s chin, moved up, gently tugging on his curls, trailing his cheekbones, his nose and ears down to his jaw, feeling a bit of stubble. “I will take you apart, Q, and you will sob for me. And then, I will take care of you, after you’ve been a good little sub. Understood?”

He opened his belt with one hand, the other burried in Q’s hair, tugging at it a bit rougher. The silent moan leaving Q’s mouth made Bond’s erection grow, and he freed it with practised ease, guiding it to Q’s lips but not allowing him to swallow it.

He let the tip smear precum over Q’s cheek, ignoring how he whined and wanted more.

“Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt! Q is kidnapped and tortured/raped. 007 comes to the rescue~"

“Double-oh-seven, he is in the third corridor to the right, the second room. Three guards.”

“Status?”, James asked into his earpiece, releasing the safety of his rifle, two others on his belt, amongst a knife and one or two grenades. Even an explosive pen, the one Q had made for him for his Birthday.

“Alive. Possibly wounded, we cannot be sure though. We lost contact one day ago.”

“Double-oh-seven out.” He simply took out the earphone and destroyed it underneath his shoe, eyes sparkling with fury and anger he had suppressed since the news had found their way to him.

Q was gone. Someone had his Q and they would pay, even if he would have to break their necks with his bare hands.

They would pay.

Shooting the first one in the head, he broke through the window, rolling over the ground to weaken the impact of his jump. He stood up, swirled around and kicked another one in the guts, before ending his life with a bullet in his skull.

Three guards quickly turned into ten, and he wasn’t even in Q’s room yet. With the fury of a tiger, anger turning him blind against any pain from blows or knives thrown at him, he murdered his way through the corridors, the sound of gunshots and dying men echoing from the walls.

He soon ran out of ammo, but simply took his handgun and continued.

It took him maybe five minutes to find Q, and he kicked the door open before shooting the first guard in the head, the other two following the next moments.

Q lay there, in the corner with his hands tied together and his ankles bound too, whole body covered in dirt and blood. He had so many wounds that Bond quickly lost count, cuts, burns, the marks of fingers and bruises from teeth and hands visible on his pale skin, most around his neck and on his hips.

There was so much blood, it was a wonder Q still was alive.

But his green eyes focused on James the moment he was in his line of sight, Q’s glasses broken and some shards stuck in his right eye, blood probably covering his vision and having turned it red.

He flinched away from James as he approached him and reached out to touch his face, eyes wide and fearful, body shaking in shivers and pain.

Only then James realised that there was blood on his arse, and why there were fingerprints on his hips. There was liquid having dried there, some on his arse-cheeks, some around his mouth and some still dripping, fresh.

James took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. They all were dead, shooting into their corpses wouldn’t change anything.

Carefully, James lifted Q up, trying to ignore the sting of pain as he stiffened in his arms, only James’ whispered words calming him down.

“It’s alright, I have you, you are safe now…”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "00Q pront? One in which they are in bed relaxing and Bond gets hold of a marker or a pen and starts writin all over Q, pwetty pwease?"

“Six letters, another word for cat?”

“Feline”, Q mumbled, squirming closer until his side was pressed against James’, body warmth making him sleepier than he already was.

Bond hummed, and something tickled Q’s back, but he ignored it for the sake of sleeping.

“Another word for home?”

“Territory.”

Now Bond chuckled, and usually Q would know that something was going on, that something was wrong, but he was sleepy, his arse sore and he wanted to relax and not deal with James’ definition of relaxing again.

Maybe he was filling out a crossword.

Hopefully.

“French word for love?”

“Amour.”

“Italian word for lust?”

Q sighed, patting a hand into James’ direction in the hope of hitting his mouth and making him shut up.

“Desiderio.”

Bond chuckled again. “Another word for baby dog?”

“Puppy.”

With each question, the tickling got worse, and he slowly woke up despise wanting to sleep. He had have such a wonderful dream… Opening his eyes, he caught a glimpse of Bond leaning over him, something black in his hands.

“What’re you doing?”, Q mumbled and turned to lay on his side, but Bond wrapped an arm around him and kept him still, eyebrows narrowed in concentration.

“Lay still, I’m not finished.”

“Finished with what?”

Bond only chuckled and Q gave up, slowly dozing off.

He woke up hours later, the sound of the shower running and the empty bed next to him indicating where James was. He slowly sat up and stretched, yawning loudly. Just as he was about to follow and maybe join James under the shower, he saw something in the corner of his eyes and stopped, turning his back towards the mirror and then his head to look at his reflection.

“James?!”

His whole back was covered in black words, written with a marker and in James’ handwriting. Words like love, territory, amour, puppy, feline, cosy, always cold, mine were written all over his back, some even on his arms and on his arse (Mine, Entrance to Paradise).

He blushed, ignoring how James laughed and just went to join him, a marker in his hands.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tracionn asked: "God your prompt fills are so awesome! I'm addicted I think. I'd like to prompt a nightmare h/c moment if that's okay please. I'd be fine with either of them having the nightmare, I just would love to be it a really tough one so that the comforting (however that looks like) is really necessary too. Thank you so much."

Q had have many nightmares in his life, from the childish ones about being hunted by a clown or falling off a cliff, to the ones about being tortured or kidnapped he had now.

Sometimes they weren’t bad. He would wake up, breath not quicker, body not sweaty and no tears running down his cheeks, and simply make himself some tea. Tea always helped, and so he quickly took to drinking tea all over the day so no bad memories could gather together and torture him in his subconsciousness.

But sometimes it didn’t work.

Sometimes he woke up screaming, crying and getting away from wherever he was - either from his desk when he had fallen asleep during work, or away from his bed or couch - and getting a panic attack.

Sometimes he had to use his inhalator after waking up from such a dream, he would feel it in his bones, in every cell of his being. It would haunt him all over the day, and he wouldn’t be able to work properly because it was too much, and listening to agents die, tortures and gunshots didn’t help.

Since he had been with James, it had been better. He still had them, but they happened less and he had enough courage to go to sleep without James dragging him after him and way from the laptop.

Tonight, however, wasn’t such a night.

Maybe he should have had more tea, or should have slept earlier.

But as he woke up in the middle of the night with a scream loud enough to be heard by his neighbors probably, he couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

It felt like weight pressed down on his chest and throat, pieces of metal and fire burning into his flesh, and there were voices mocking him, whispering into his ear. A laughing, then a chaos of voices, all speaking at once, teasing him, laughing at him, screaming or crying or singing.

Q jumped on his feet, running away from the bed and from James who had been awake the moment Q had screamed, hand on his weapon and body tensed in preparation to fight and protect.

Q didn’t know where he ran to. He barely recognised his own flat, just ran and bumped into doorframes, the pain hardly palpable as he felt like running through fire, feet torn open by shards all over the ground, computerscreens bursting and exploding next to him while the voice was mocking him, laughing, not such a clever boy.

He almost had made it to the door, but a hard hand grasped his shoulder and pulled him back, someone speaking to him but he couldn’t understand a word because it hurt so much, it burnt and laughed and tore his flesh off his bones and skin curling and it hurt so much, make it stop.

“Q? Q what’s wrong?”

Q tried to get away from whoever was holding him, skin against his feeling so cold and dead like a machine and it was here to kill him, here to take him apart and break him because it would only take a snap.

And the laughing. It still was there, getting louder and louder in his head, making him want to pull his brain out and squeeze it in his hands until it was silent and gone.

“Q?!”

Suddenly strong arms were around his waist and he was being pulled back to the bed, warm duvets around his slender frame, and he was drowning, sucked down into the mattress and into the fire…

Q felt like waking up again as soft, warm lips were on his forehead, kissing down his cheeks, to his jawline, stubbles scratching against his cheek, every sensation slowly bringing Q back to controlled consciousness.

He blinked, realising he had been crying and screaming all the time, because his throat felt sore and his cheeks were wet.

James kissed the corner of his lips, lingerning there while his fingers combed through Q’s curls, making noises to calm him down, whispering sweet nonesense which usually would cause Q to roll his eyes, but right now he clung onto the agent’s shoulders desperately as his body was shaken because of sobs.

“It’s alright, Q, it’s alright”, James mumbled, kissing Q’s forehead again, “It only was a dream, ssh. Darling, it’s alright.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I hope I'm not bothering with another prompt... but I'd really like to read one where Bond and Q, after a while they have been together, they start speaking in unison or finishing each other sentences. They don't notice but anyone else does. Thank you, good job and good luck!"

“Have you tracked down the hacker yet?”

M was ignored for a few moments, Q’s fingers flying over the keyboard and eyes roaming over the maps in front of his eyes, every screen of the five not let out of his sight for longer than a few moments.

Bond entered a few moments later, took his usual spot on the edge of Q’s desk and watched him work, Q’s cup of tea in his hands.

“He’s in…”, Q started, only for both Bond and Q to silmutaneously finish the sentence, “China.”

M blinked, looking around to see if everyone else was bothered by this, but none of the minions even had looked up and kept on working. He ignored it, putting it under the category ‘Coinsidence’.

It happened again, some hours later.

The hacker had moved again, and his old address had exploded. Q had to track him down again, with the whole Q-branch plus M watching as he worked, Bond leaning against the wall next to M and watching.

“Double-oh-seven, please give me the-“

“-File, here.”

M blinked. There, again.

“Has anyone seen-“

“-Annica left to get your tea.”

And again.

“If he went over fifty miles just to get there…”

“…then there must be something of value at his final destination…”

“…and if we can track it down…”

“…then we can be there before he is there.”

M looked around, but no one looked surprised. More… annoyed. Like they were used to this. Being close was one thing, but finishing each other’s sentences and speaking in unison like they could read each other’s mind?

That went a bit too far.

“Tea”, both Bond and Q demanded at the same time, obviously not noticing it, too distracted by the work and screen.

One of the minions left, disappearing in the kitchen and returning with only one cup of tea, as if she had known that Bond demanded it for Q and Q for himself.

“Do you notice that you finish each other’s sentences?”, a minion, fresh, just finished the training, once dared to ask, when Q and Bond were thinking about what to order for lunch break and finished each other’s sentences like usually.

“We don’t!”, Q and Bond said at the same time, looking up at the same moment, with the same expression.

M had to hide his smile behind his hand to not laugh loudly, or betray his amusement about the situation.

“So what shall we get?”

“How about-“

“-Not Chinese again, Q, I had enough the last mission. What do you think-“

“Not Italian. No. Not after you made a mustache with your pasta.”

“It was funny and you-“

“Yes I laughed. No.”

M slowly turned around and left, not wanting to watch any longer as Q leant up and Bond down, their lips brushing.

“What do you think about-“

“French, wonderful.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Since you are awesome person, can I have one where Bond lost his voice (maybe on a mission) and can't speak, but Q undestands him anyway (and maybe Bond is all grumpy about it, like 'are-you-in-my-head-kid-?!' grumpy?)"

“No, James, put it down.”

James turned to glare at Q, who was having his back turned to him, not even looking yet knowing what he had been about to do.

It was frustrating, annoying, and the reason for James’ bad mood. Not only, of course, the fact that he couldn’t speak for at least a day due to a drug-inflicted paralysis in his throat was responsible for it too, but it was easier to blame Q than the already dead terrorists.

“No, you can’t wait until I’m in bed to get it, forget it.”

How was that even possible?

James went to go and sulk in the kitchen, taking out their bottle of scotch and pouring himself some in a glass. He had no idea how Q did that, reading his thoughts and knowing what he usually would say would he be able to speak, exactly knowing what and the intonation in which he wanted to say it.

As he had woken up, Q had rolled his eyes at him. “Yes you can’t talk for at least a day, no that’s not a reason to be grumpy about.”

No, that not. But being read by a kid whose eyes weren’t focused on him was annoying, embarrassing and frustrating, especially for an agent who was supposed to be unreadable.

As he returned, Q was still looking at his screen, but his shoulders had sunken down like they did when he was tired, and James’ expression softened.

“I’m not tired, James”, Q protested as James lifted him up effortlessly, just hanging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

‘Yes you are’, James wanted to say, but he couldn’t.

He placed Q on the bed, then lay down next to him and wrapped an arm around Q’s shoulder, sipping on his scotch.

‘Good night.’

“Try to get some sleep, James.”

James only smirked, drinking a sip again. Q next to him huffed, curling up against James’ side like a cat, searching body heat.

“I know you won’t, just let me believe it.”

He turned his head and pressed a kiss on Q’s forehead, making the younger man smile sleepily.

“I love you too. Now sleep.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Would you be able to write a prompt where Q is possessed by a demon and James' is faced with a choice, kill him or watch the demon destroy him. Please?"

Q - no, that thing possessing his body - stared at James, eyes wide and black and wrong, wrong, wrong.

“What are you going to do, Jamie-boy?”

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The creature moved closer, the knife in his hand bloody from where he had cut open Q’s right hand, blood pouring from the wound and spilling on the ground. It hurt James to see him like that, it hurt him to know that he had only one choice, and that both options he had would kill Q.

There were tears behind his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall because he was an agent, and this was just another mission.

“Will you let him die, your beloved toy boy, or will you watch me break him and MI6 apart like a tiny, pathetic fly?”

Even the voice was wrong. Gone Q’s posh accent, the way he would give each word too much time like each was important, not wasting his time with descriptions and words which were useless, empty.

And the thing was smiling, this cruel smile which made James want to hit it until he would have his Q back.

“What will you do, Jamie? Tick tock, goes the clock, tick tock. Tick. Tock.”

He stepped closer, the blood dripping down each time the thing said Tick or Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Drip.

Drop.

Tick.

Drip.

Tock.

Drop.

And suddenly there was a scream, and James put the knife deeper into the creature’s chest, into Q’s, seeing how the black eyes went wide before the black faded, the usual colour returning.

And there were tears running down Q’s face, and maybe James’ too, but he couldn’t feel his body, only the hands around the handle of the knife as he put it deeper, through ribs and bones directly into Q’s heart.

“I am sorry”, James mumbled, voice lacking off emotions but his eyes were full of grief and pain and hatred towards himself.

“Don’t be”, Q’s voice said weakly, before his legs gave in and his eyes rolled back into his head, while black smoke rose from his mouth and disappeared.

James sat there for seven hours before the police came in, and he didn’t fight them as they took him out and away.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sweetkirkandhellaspock asked: "Although I'm not the one that prompted it, on behalf of writing a fic off my photoset, thank you! But onto the real reason I'm here; could you prehaps write a fic about James's seeming alcohol problem? Say one night he has a little too much to drink and gets physically rowdy with Q - nothing too serious, but enough for Q to get angry with him. In the morning, James finds Q with a mark from the night before - say a bruise or a cut - and feels ashamed of himself. Q's angry, but willing to forgive."

The night was blurry in James’ memory as he woke up, head throbbing painfully, movements far too slow as he sat up, trying to figure out what had happened.

Judging from the way the world turned as he sat up, he figured it was a hangover, leaving him with one question: Just how much did he have exactly?

He rolled his shoulders, ignoring how his stomach protested from the poison he had swallowed down yesterday night, the memories not there and everything too foggy to even try and think about it. What bothered him more was the fact that Q wasn’t on his side, not sleeping next to him like usually.

It was five am, so he wasn’t at work, and it was their free day off - probably why James had drunken, but he couldn’t remember and didn’t bother.

He stood up, stomach turning, but he was used to this far too well and just swallowed some pills dry, waiting for them to work while he walked towards the kitchen, deciding to drink Q’s chocolate milk to work against the headache.

He stopped in the doorframe, though, as he saw his lover standing there, back turned to him and still naked.

There were marks all over his back. Fingers, nails, and some looking like teeth. A few hickeys on his neck - in areas he wouldn’t be able to hide them - and bruises like fingershapes on his hipbones.

It didn’t take James long to realise what he had done, and guilt reminded him of how sick he felt.

“Q-“

“Oh don’t start feeling guilty or ashamed, James, you had a drink too much and got a bit rough. You didn’t rape me, in case you feared that.”

He stepped closer, relieved that indeed there was no sign that he had done anything against Q’s will. He didn’t flinch nor tried to get away, and as James wrapped his arms around his waist, he leant into the touch and rested his head on James’ shoulder.

Bond kissed an angry bite-mark on his neck, feeling ashamed of himself for doing it.

“You don’t have to be sorry”, Q mumbled, but James could hear that he hadn’t forgiven him yet, like a cat who first had to be given something to trust.

“But I am.”

“Just stop drinking that much, and if don’t take it out on me.

James kissed his neck again, grip tightening around Q’s waist.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "If you are still taking promps can I ask fon a claustrophobic!Q? (With kisses pls)"

If Q thought about it, it perhaps hasn’t been the best thing to do.

But they had a new invention, and it was supposed to be able to calculate the amount of air in a closed space in case an agent got locked into a coffin or tiny room, like a closet or something of that kind.

And Q, always testing his equipment on his own, had insisted on doing it on his own, which was why he found himself in a tiny room, with the size of an average closet, and with the door being closed.

It wasn’t that horrible. The door wasn’t locked and he could get out anytime, and he only had to be in here for about a minute or less for his machine to work.

He did his tests, then reached out to the knob, pressed it down and…

It didn’t work.

He immediately felt panic, heartbeat racing out of a sudden and palms sweaty as he tried it again, and again. He pressed it down, and down again and again and again, even knocked against the glass because his team was supposed to be there and watch over him, but no one answered.

He had been calm before, but now he was panicked.

He sunk down against the wall and closed his eyes, breathed in and out, counted to one thousand seventy four, said the first fifty numbers of pii and went through the complete five hundred codes of his latest program before he realised that no, he couldn’t stay calm.

He knocked against the glass again, laid his head against it and let out a sob, beginning to hyperventilate.

The walls were closing in around him, the air getting thicker, and less, even though his machine told him it still had the same number when he had entered.

He just wanted to get out. Immediately. Now. He wanted to get out and run into the park, feel the fresh air, and no walls around him, nothing to keep him locked and inside. He wanted to be able to breathe in and out and never get back into this room, and why did he even have the idea to get in here?!

Just as he had felt like passing out, the door was opened, and a very frightened minion turned around, being pushed to the side by no one but Bond.

He was lifted up into the agent’s arms, clung onto him while he tried to get his breathing under control, all minions and agents passing them staring at the strange picture they offered: An agent practically running outside with their Quartermaster in his arms, curled up and hyperventilating.

Five minutes after being outside, Q calmed down enough to breathe properly, his heart rate calmed too and he was able to breathe normally again.

“I didn’t know you were claustrophobic”, Bond mumbled softly as he picked up a flower, blowing its blossoms away.

“And afraid of planes”, Q sighed, head resting in James’ lap.

“It fits.”

Q punched him softly into the stomach, giving a weak smile.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tracionn asked: "Ah, you are getting so many wonderful prompts - and we wondeful fills. Okay, one thing I love about the pairing is the age difference, so something with that please? Maybe they love it too :) Oh, and I have a huge hugging-from-behind kink and if you could work that in I'd be so happy! And grateful, always grateful."

“Good morning, kid”, Bond mumbled, wrapping his arms around Q’s waist like other people breathed, movement so natural that it had became the first thing he did in the morning, right after waking up.

He pressed a kiss on Q’s neck and let his lips linger there, thumbs drawing circles on Q’s hips through the thin fabric of his trousers.

Q only hummed, and put his hands on James’, twining their fingers. Q’s were thinner, bonier, and longer, James’ hand bigger and rougher, speaking of years working in the field.

“I’m not a kid”, Q mumbled sleepily, just having woken up, tea not even prepared, “And you know that.”

There was no venom in his voice as he spoke, the smile audible and making James smile in return. Oh, he knew Q loved this little teasing just as much as James did, it kept them entertained him young, even though it probably should cause the opposite.

“Well but you are, Q, in comparison to me.”

Q huffed, turning his head a bit so he could see James from the corner of his eyes.

“You’re an old man, it isn’t hard to be a kid compared to you.”

Turning Q around until he lay on his back, James moved to be on top of him, leaning down to press a soft kiss on the younger man’s lips, moving down to his jaw and then neck.

“Old man, mmh?”

Q squirmed underneath him as James sucked a hickey on his neck, giggling quietly and with a happiness only someone young and fresh could have. James found it appealing, and cute, just like Q’s big eyes and innocent expression.

It made the wolf inside him growl in a possessive feeling, and hugged him against his chest.

“Yes, old man.”

James kissed Q’s lips to silence him, feeling his lover’s erection against his leg.

“Mmh”, he hummed, smirking dangerously, “The enthusiasm of the youth.”

Now it was Q’s turn to kiss him, if only to make James shut up and put his mouth to a better use.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Warm Bodies AU: Q is a zombie (but he's kind of bad at it, being not super good at this whole flesh-eating thing) and 007 is of those badass survivors with perfect aim who intent to go out with a bang if they ever get caught by the infected. Somehow, somewhere, against all odds, they fall in love."

Their first meeting was quite… unconventional.

Bond had been on his run from an army of zombies, all following him despise him being a lot of faster, knowing the area better than they did.

He never had left London, only MI6 after M had tried to eat his face, and knew this part of the city almost better than his gun. He thought about going down into the subways, the old and unused parts where a zombie couldn’t get in, but for that he would have to find a way in and that without getting bitten, infected or eaten.

None of that, please, he was quite fond of his suit and body.

He had finally got rid of the zombies, they were too stupid for their own good, and had turned around to find a spot with functioning internet connection so he could get access to a map and find his current position, but there had been a zombie in the middle of the internet café, poking at a corpse with disgust in his face.

Even James had to re-think this phrase in his head, because there was a zombie being disgusted by a corpse. Flesh. A zombie, disgusted by flesh laying there on the silver plate, all ready for him, not even moving.

James reloaded his gun, the used bullets falling down on the ground with a silent clicking noise, and that caught the zombie’s attention.

Instead of leaping at James like expected, he just sat there, staring at James without the intention of even moving.

What kind of zombie was that?

It turned out to be a young man who called himself Q, because he couldn’t remember his name and couldn’t talk much, but at least he didn’t try and bite into James’ shoulder like he expected him to.

No, for a zombie he was surprisingly human, refusing to eat any human flesh because the thought was disgusting and he would rather not bite into something when he had no idea when it had last taken a bath, the thought alone was horrible and made the zombie sick.

A sick zombie. One might think the world couldn’t become much crazier after a zombie apocalypse, but here James was, chatting with a zombie.

Who, somehow, had a computer, knew how to use it and helped James to get down into the subway.

He had to eat, both had, and so Q sometimes got up and found food, no one even glaring at the zombie since he was one of them, only a bit weird but mindless, flesh-eating creatures didn’t care.

James found himself starting to warm up for the zombie, despise everything.

He taught him how to talk again, how to properly walk without limping and shared his food with him (if only not to get eaten when Q would loose control over himself).

But not even he would have thought that one day, he would end up kissing Q, not tasting rotten, cold flesh, but warm skin, a beating heart, a pulse. It was like Q was alive, and not dead, and his skin felt alive, soft, human.

It was like they had found a cure, without intenting to, and now they had to see how to use this. After some kissing, and after Q had learnt how to use a gun.

He never would, because he wasn’t born to use one, he was born to create them.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I love you're fics, you're a really good writer!!! Now I have a prompt for you, should you choose to accept it: Q has an unholy obsession with his scrabble mug, he always has it on his person. Whenever 007 tries to do anything with Q, his mug acts like a cock-block, like "oh, my mug is empty time for more tea" or "where's my mug *starts looking everywhere for it*"."

Q’s mug, James decided, was his worst enemy.

With villains he could deal, he could kill them, or let them disappear forever, or his colleagues would deal with them if he couldn’t. They weren’t his worst problem.

Q’s mug was.

It was this ridiculous scrabble mug, with the Q and the 10 on its tail, probably older than the boy and made for the day a new Quartermaster would enter Q-branch. It was hideous. It was simple, easy, and it was the biggest cock-block in the existance of cock-blocks, and James had been around for a long time.

Whenever James tried to make a move, by maybe sitting on Q’s desk and leaning down to kiss his neck, going up to his jawline and up to his lips, and Q would title his head to meet his lips, only to catch a glimpse of his mug, empty and-

“Wait for a moment, I will get some more tea.”

James groaned in annoyance, rubbing his face. He thought about getting this mug and throw it against the nearest wall, but that would only enrage Q and then he would never get him into bed again.

At home, Q had the mug always around. In his hands, or on the table near-by, James once had have to hold it while Q was in the bathroom, and it had only survived due to his self-control. Otherwise it would have been shards by now.

Sometimes James felt like maybe he would get further this day, but just as he had been about to open Q’s shirt and claim every inch of skin as his, the other was on his feet, looking around.

“Have you seen my mug?”

James sighed in annoyance. “No, but what would you need a mug in bed for?”

Q stared at him like he was out of his mind, then turned his head and walked towards the bedroom to see if he had left it there. James leant back and got up to go into the kitchen, taking the mug out of the closet where he had hidden it in, turning around to see Q standing in the doorframe.

“Oh you found it!”, Q kissed his cheek and took the mug, leaving the room again, “Thank you.”

Whenever James felt like not being nice, he simply took the mug out of Q’s hands, taking both of them to stop him from taking it again and attacking his lips until there was no thought about a mug or tea left.

He counted it as a victory that Q let him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Persephone and Hades AU (sorta, more to the tune of the poem 'Persephone Lied' than the Greek canon): Q is the God of Spring, bored to tears with his life. One day, he sees a black hole in the ground and jumps, landing right in the God of the Dead's (aka James) lap. Getting to know each other ensues, and when James offers the pomegranate Q is all 'give me the fucking fruit' so he can stay. Cue sexytimes, angry mothers, etc."

He had been bored several times during his life, sometimes thought his life was nothing more but a gathering of boredom.

Walking behind his mother in her garden, sulking with every step he had to follow her, rosebuds covering her way and he had to avoid stepping on them.

Q more than once had thought ‘Oh, she walks in beauty. Again. Wuhu.’

And Q, being bored, so terribly bored that he wanted to get away and run, had to follow her through the garden, watch her grow flowers and trees, their blossoms returning to life after winter, welcoming spring.

At a day like every other, he sat there, bored out of his mind and wondering if there could be something worse than this, bored to the edge of tears and hating his life, until he saw a black hole out of a sudden.

It wasn’t big, nor frightening, just like every other hole only that he couldn’t see its ground and where it ended.

Well, he thought, the Gods gave me a sign, why not listening to them?

He ran, getting as much speed as possible before he jumped down, the hole closing over his head and his world wrapped into darkness, the garden gone, the singing of the birds and the animals and flowers, and he had never felt this alive and exited in his whole life.

He had expected to land on the ground, to hurt his arse and end up regretting the situation, but he hadn’t expected to end up in the lap of a man, with piercing blue eyes and blond hair, looking like an angel but with a face covered in scars, and with an aura so dark it was like touching the shadows.

The man smiled, and Q realised it was Death, the God of Hell, who was smiling there at him, like he was a welcomed entertainment.

He changed the route of his horses, riding into the shadows Q could see, and did some things the God of Spring had never thought as possible, but they happened to him and left him sore, sticky and satisfied, so they did it again and again, the days passing and their acquaintanceship turning into something else, something more and purer than anything in hell.

One day, when Q lay in James’ arms and closed his eyes, the God of Death nudged his side and presented him a pomegranate, saying that once Q would eat it, he would always have to stay down there with him, never being able to return to his garden and mother.

Q just rolled his eyes and told him to give him the fucking fruit, to which James laughed, his rare genuine laughs and he gave Q the fruit.

He swallowed it whole, then kissed James, pushing him down into the bed, and it was all teeth, lips and tongues.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hi~ I'm the anon who asked for the kidnapped Q~ And I loved it~ If it's alright can you right a sequel to it, like how Bond handles the situation afterwards? Like the effects of what happened. Thank you~"

Q had to be taken into hospital, immediately. His wounds could get infected, and they had to take DNA samples from his mouth and his backside to check if the man (or men, someone had said and James had growled at them) was listed in their data, and they had to see if he was capable of returning to work with or without a psychologist.

James stayed at his side all the time, holding his hand, scaring everyone away who dared to get too close and make Q whimper, trying to move away from whoever it was, the nurse, M, a psychologist, a doctor, Eve, everyone but James.

He sat with him when Q woke up from a nightmare, screaming and crying, eyes wide and fearful, and James knew he had relived the whole time he had been gone, every second, so he squeezed his hands and wiped away his tears, never getting closer in fear that his lover would be afraid of him.

James wouldn’t be able to survive that, he couldn’t let that happen, no.

Q was allowed to leave after three days, but had to stay at home and couldn’t work until the psychologist would give his OK. James took him home, sat him on the couch - lay him down, rather, because sitting hurt Q’s arse and James didn’t want him to remember that part of his torture - and made him some tea.

He sat with him and watched TV, some dumb programs but sometimes they said something which triggered Q to close his eyes and begin to cry, despise his attempts to keep himself together and be strong. James would lean down and kiss the tears away, feeling Q’s irregular heartbeat underneath his fingertips as he caressed his chest, showering him in affection.

It wasn’t easy.

He couldn’t share a bed with Q, not yet, and so James slept on the couch whenever Q was watching TV. He didn’t want to sleep when Q did, in case he would have a nightmare and wake up, he didn’t want to be gone out of his sight and make him think he was back in the room.

He couldn’t touch him, like he wanted to, wanted to caress every scar and wound and kiss the pain away, but that would only scare Q and he didn’t want him to be afraid of him. Sometimes, James kissed his forehead and Q would attempt to smile, it would be weak and wrong and James wanted to kill those men over and over again, or sometimes he would kiss the corner of his lips and Q would tense underneath him.

Those times, James moved a bit away from him, gave him space and waited patiently until Q came back to him, most of the times resting his head on James’ shoulders or just taking his hand, Q’s own, bony one shaking.

Three weeks after the incident, Q asked James to come back to bed with him, and James held him tightly through his nightmares, pressed Q against his chest and tried to ignore how it hurt to know that the other would be afraid of him would he spoon him from behind.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "If you happen to still be taking prompts and have the time....I've been looking everywhere for a BAMF-ish!Q and a surprised 007 in return. Pretty please?"

The weapon lay cold and heavy in his hand, a nice weight and a famiiar feeling of gunpowder, bullets and trigger underneath his finger making Q smile.

He shouldn’t have, perhaps, in a situation like this. But then, when did he get to test his own weapons on a moving target and not only on the wall? Correct, never, and what kind of Quartermaster would send his agents out without the knowledge that his weapons were perfect and ready for action?

It was somehow convenient, that some organisation had decided to take down the MI6 today, and not yesterday when Q’s weapon hadn’t been finished.

It was coded to his palmprint, naturally, but he could easily overwrite the code to the agent’s who would get the weapon, probably double-oh-seven since only he was reckless enough to loose his weapon and let it into his enemy’s hand.

Q never had have the problem with double-oh-three, or double-oh-six. I always was Bond, this attention seeker.

Somewhere behind him, a glass wall exploded as a bullet went through it, shards raining down, some in front of Q’s feet. He squirmed a bit more backwards, hidden underneath his desk and for once glad that most of his minions already were gone.

Where it meant that he would have to deal with at least six thugs alone now, it also meant that he didn’t have to worry about shooting one of his underlings accidentally.

Not that that would happen, Q possessed a very good aim and very quick reflexes.

Which he used, the moment thug number one went around to check if someone as in here, about to bent down and check under Q’s desk. They needed him alive, or else they wouldn’t get further than the front door of M’s office, not to mention that by now he must have been in his hideout, where no one would get in for forty-seven hours without a code only Q knew.

Actually, by now Q should have been in his own, but he loved a challenge and this was a wonderful one.

Shooting the man between the eyes, he jumped on his feet, turned around and shot the next one in the head, satisfied with the lack of noise due to the silencer, and the impact wasn’t hard enough to spill brain and blood all over the place, but it did its job.

The two others turned around, rising their files, but Q already jumped over his desk, kicked one in the jaw and got his weapon - standart version, really? - with which he shot thug number four in the chest, deciding that they would need someone to interrogate and this one had been the nicest, not destroying any of the computers like the rest.

The other one was guarding the door, but with a shot in the back of his head he fell down and the glass door into pieces. Taking his gun too, one could never have enough, Q made his way through the corridors, tablet in his free hand and map with red dots where the enemies were right in front of his eyes.

It felt like playing COD, or Deus Ex, and it was fun.

On his way up, he killed two thugs who were standing guard in front of rooms where they had gathered together the agents of the other branches, and Q let them out, gave two field agents the gun and then continued his way.

He wanted to check on Eve, just in case they had somehow managed to destroy M’s office door. He had heard an explosion earlier, just in case.

Turned out that Bond had been the reason for the explosion, as he had made his spectacular entrance with a grenade and a rifle, killing ten of the twenty thugs in three minutes.

Seven had been down at Q-branch, meaning three were out there somewhere. Since there was no sign from Bond, Q assumed he had found them and quickly tracked him down before running to H-branch.

Bond had killed one, but another one held a gun on his head and in front of him another one was just about to shoot between Bond’s eyes, but Q was faster.

He shot thug number nineteen in the arm, then kicked the door open, shot thug number twenty in the temple by curving the bullet - which he had imagined would be harder from watching Wanted, but well - and then put a bullet in nineteen’s head, both falling down in the time Bond got up.

“Q?”, he asked, surprised, and Q felt a sting of pride in his chest, making him smirk.

“Yes, you can be surprised later, I have to go down and open M’s door so he can get out. Since the danger’s over, right?”

James nodded numbly and followed Q like a puppy, silent for at least half an hour until M came out and scolded them for destroying half of Q-branch and his office.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Still taking prompts? Q has some sort of health issue he's had most of his life, but now it needs surgical correction. Bond goes to the hospital with him to support him and be there when he wakes up."

A valvular heart defect, the operation too risky for someone with a medical past like Q. But he could live with it and that was fine.

Sometimes his chest hurt and he couldn’t breathe, so he had to take his medication which two of his minions - one working at day, the other at night - had in their desks in case he couldn’t take them out on his own. Sometimes he was beginning to sweat and said he saw blurry, so his minions sat him down on the couch they had bought for him, brought him tea and watched over him until he calmed down.

James was like a mother-hen, sometimes, but it was for Q’s health so he didn’t care.

When they were at home, in their flat, James would do most of the work so Q could sit and relax, would try to cook (and fail), would carry his lover around like he couldn’t walk and politely ignore the protests coming from the younger man.

It should have been James with the heart disease, he was older, but no, Q always was the exception to the rule and he was fine with it, since he didn’t have to go out to the field and work.

But one day, when the pain in Q’s chest became too much and he said his heart was trying to jump out of his chest, James took him to hospital.

They sat he needed a surgery, and that they could use a clip made of steel to help the blood circulation and close the gap and… something.

James had never bothered to learn the complicated words the doctor used, but it sounded like it would help and Q agreed.

Q would have to stay in hospital for at least a week after the surgery, so they could make sure the operation had been successful and that there wouldn’t be any complications, and after glaring at them angrily, they had brought in a second bed for James so he didn’t have to leave his partner’s side.

They took Q out of his room around seven am, and James sat there on the chair next to where his bed had been before they had rolled it out, staring at the wall like it could make the blasted ticking stop or go faster.

A nurse brought him coffee and something to eat, saying that his partner was fine, and You don’t have to worry, Mister Meyers, your husband is doing fine, no complications.

There was an advantage in knowing M well enough to make him agree to have them married in each of their faked alliases, it meant that James didn’t have to kill someone to be allowed in Q’s room as he was brought in again.

Michael, like he was called in the ID they had used this time, was still asleep as James took his hand and kissed it, listening to the doctor who told him that everything was fine and that his husband would wake up in a few hours.

Seven, to be precise. Seven hours, sixteen minutes and fourty-three seconds after he had been been brought into the room, Q opened his eyes, blinking a few times against the bright light and then looked at James, like he had known instinctually that James was there.

Q smiled, exhausted, tired, but he was fine, and that was enough for James to not go, get his gun and shoot the doctor in the head as long as there were bullets in his gun.

He leant forward and pressed a kiss on Q’s forehead, stroking his knuckles with his thumb gently.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Yay, you're back! Another prompt, I'm feeling a little domestic so: 007 and Q finally move in together in a nice flat in a new area in the heart of London. They walk around an familiarize themselves with their new surroundings. Q is somewhere along the lines of interested in everything he sees, while 007 is a little twitchy and jumpy at the new place and everything that could go wrong."

Q’s eyes were wide in joy as he walked around their - yes, their new, freshly bought - flat, barefooted and in his pyjamas while James followed him, trying very hard not to take his gun, go in front of Q and make sure no one was there to shoot at them.

“I love it”, Q said quietly, for maybe the third time since they had bought it and moved in, the boxes with their clothes and belongings, James’ guns, weapons and Q’s toys and laptops still standing in the entrance hall.

James only grunted which was neither an agreement nor a disagreement, because yes, the flat was nice, bright walls and beautiful furniture, not even that expensive for such a big one in the middle of London, a place for which some people would kill, but that exactly was the problem.

There weren’t enough places to hide in case someone would attack.

They had four windows, two facing the street, one the park close by and another one the house opposite to them, a perfect spot for a sniper and perfect for enemies to hide.

The walls weren’t thick enough to stand an explosion, and while they were thick enough to be sound-proof, he wasn’t sure what their neighbors would say would someone attack them and gunshots fall.

Their bedroom was where every bedroom was, not somewhere where a person wouldn’t look first, and the kitchen open, no place to hide either.

They had a spare room - for children or guests, the woman who had sold them the flat had said with a fake smile - where Q could put his laptops in and James his weapons, but there was no lock so Q had to make one first.

This flat wasn’t safe. He didn’t know how many steps he would have to take to get from one room to the other, didn’t know where which item lay yet and he didn’t know the layout by heart. It wasn’t safe.

He wanted to get Q and go back to his own flat, nice, safe, with a hidehout close by and no windows, but Q would figure out how paranoid James was and leave him.

The noise of a door made James twitch, hand automatically going to the gun he hid inside his jacket, but Q’s hand stopped him and a kiss was pressed on his lips, chaste, but soft.

“I already contacted Eve, she and a team will drop by later and search the flat for any bugs, cameras, bombs, weapons or anything of that kind. They will also secure the area, and the flat opposite to ours has been bought by M and given to an agent.” Q smiled. “Don’t think I don’t know your paranoia.”

James huffed, wrapping an arm around Q’s waist. “You won’t go into another room without me until I know every corner and inch of this flat.”

Q smiled, shrugging. “Fine.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Are you still taking promps? If so, can I have one where Bong has a really high fever and he's delirious, and Q is taking care of him?"

“Q?”

Q looked up from his book, cursing those blasted sleeping medications for not working when he needed them to. Not even the hardest ones could knock someone like James Bond out, unfortunately.

Which meant that Q really had to play babysitter for him.

There were dozens of things he would rather do at the moment, a dozen or more.

Slowly, he stood up and walked over to their bedroom, where James lay covered in three blankets, their big fluffy duvet and with a cold washing cloth on his forehead, eyes clouded as he looked at the younger man standing at the doorframe with a bowl of soup in his hand.

Yes, James Bond had fever. Yes, it was worse than dealing with him during a mission.

“Q-huuu”, James slurred out, lifting a hand to reach out to his partner even though he was standing meters away from him.

“C’m here…”

Q sighed, slowly walking over. James was delirious, having talked about how M had visited him earlier, when Q had been out to buy new medication, and how she had congratulated him on his choice of partner. He told Q about how he had wrestled with a gigantic snake once, and how he was seeing an angel when he had only stared at Q’s face, this big, happy and drugged smile having done strange things to Q’s stomach and heart rate.

He placed the bowl on the bedside table, put the gun away again after James had obviously taken it out, locked the drawer and then replaced the washcloth, James moaning at the coldness and snuggling against Q’s side like an over-sized cat, or maybe a tiger.

Yes, tiger. Definitely tiger.

“You’re blurry”, James mumbled, eyes half-closed and face pale, a heartbreaking sight, “‘s like I’m wearin’ your glasses…”

Q smiled softly and leant down, kissing James’ sweaty forehead softly before placing the cloth down again. Hopefully James would soon get healthy again, before Q would loose his temper and he didn’t want to say something gross to James while he was in this state.

“Q-huuu…”

Q sighed. “Yes?”

“Why didn’t you tell me we had a cat?”

Cat? Q blinked, looking at the corner James was looking at, but nothing was there. He sighed again, wondering what he had done to have to deal with that.

“I just bought it, as a surprise. Now you have to fight for the Alpha role here.”

James snorted, a disgusting sound through his sick and swollen nose. “I’m the Alpha…”

His eyes fell closed and Q gave a sigh of relief, caressing James’ hair until he had dozen off, snorring loudly.

“Yes, you are…”

xx

Days later, James returned from a mission, only to hear a sneeze.

Oh joy.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "It's the Anon who asked for the demon 00Q. That was amazing!! If you're still taking prompts, could you do one where 003 has wanted to fuck Q for a long time so he waits until Bond is abroad on a mission before forcing Q on a date which ends badly. 003 tries to rape Q but Bond comes in and saves the day :3"

James had been out of country for longer than one week by now, somewhere out in Russia, trying to track down an organisation selling weapon designs from Q-branch they have stolen just three weeks ago.

Life has been quite eventless, at least for monitoring a double-oh-seven mission, no explosions, no sudden deaths nor ressurections, it almost felt like holidays.

Almost.

Double-oh-tree, a young man with too much enthusiasm, arrogance and self-confidence, was a new agent, only with a license to kill since half a year, and in the service for seven, a bit older as James when he had got his, but still younger than the walking legend.

Much, much more arrogant than James could ever be, and annoyingly persistant.

He had asked Q out for a date at least thrice since he had returned from his mission in Canada, and didn’t seem to accept a no. In fact, it only seemed to make him much more interested, his predator-like grin not indicating anything Q would like.

More than once, he had thought about calling James and asking about how he should proceed, but he was a grown-up, independant young man and didn’t need Bond’s allowance or assistance on everything none-technological.

He too knew about social conventions and norms, and he too knew how to politely tell someone that he was taken and not interested.

So why, he wondered, was he in a restaurant now, trying to ignore double-oh-three’s more than lustful glance?

He couldn’t really remember the time between the moment the agent had forced him away from his desk explaining loudly that he was taking Q out to a date to now, where he was staring down at his plate and considering to stand up and run.

But running when the agent had a gun and both knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use it? Not the wisest course of action, and therefore not what Q would want to risk. There were civilians in this room, and six children, one pregnant woman and a happily engaged couple.

He could sit through a date with double-oh-three with the knowledge that James would tear out each of his precious chest hairs one by one, bathing in 003’s screams and cries.

The thought alone cheered Q a bit up, so he sat through the whole thing, waiting for it to end so he could get home and wash off the kiss 003 had pressed on his knuckles earlier with a lot of soap and James’ cologne.

This plan, however, never happened.

The moment 003 had paid, taken Q outside with his hand on the small of his back, and had told him how wonderful this had been, 003’s hand pressed on Q’s mouth, stronger body dragging Q’s along easily like there was no resistance, but there was enough.

Q had been given some basic fighting knowledge, but it was of no use against a double-oh agent who clearly was having the upper hand and too much fun, judging from the bulge in his trousers which made Q worry for his life.

He could do nothing as double-oh-three dragged him along to a hotel, and forced him down on the bed, hand not leaving Q’s mouth once, not after Q had bitten into it and tore some flesh out, the taste of blood making his stomach turn in disgust.

“Oh come on, Q, you will enjoy this”, double-oh-three practically purred, forcing his lips on Q’s and keeping his hands pinned down, much heavier body pressing Q down on the bed so he couldn’t move, “I can assure you, I am better than double-oh-seven will ever be. He’s too old to properly fuck you.”

Q’s shirt found its way down to the ground, lips pressing kisses all over his body, disgusting and wrong and regardless of how much Q tried, he couldn’t get out and couldn’t scream, the hand on his mouth muting every sound.

Tears rushed into his eyes as double-oh-three had taken off all his clothes, sitting on Q’s legs with this self-satisfied grin, opening the zip of his trousers and pulling them down to his knees.

“Please let me go”, Q sobbed quietly as he was turned on his stomach, hands roaming over his back, touching what wasn’t his, and it was disgusting, wrong, and all Q wanted was to throw up and run, not in this order, “Please…”

“Ssh”, 003 mumbled, kissing Q’s neck, about to suck a mark there, “I’ve waited so long for this. I will take care of you, Q, better than double-oh-seven could…”

“I doubt that.”

Everything happened so quickly.

There suddenly was the sound of someone screaming, angry cursing, a slap, flesh against flesh in what sounded like a fight.

Q was too terrified to move, curling up into himself to cover his body, not wanting to touch the duvet because he was sure that 003 had somehow managed to bring dirt or anything of that kind on it, and the thought made Q sick.

The sound of bones breaking, a scream getting quiet after the attempt to breath, struggling breaths and sharp inhalation of air, before the thumping of something heavy on the ground made Q look up.

James stood there, hands still around 003’s neck which had twisted and broken, his favourite methode of killing when he was angry and hated the person he was killing. 003 lay to his feet and James let go of him, cold eyes turning soft and concerned as he took in Q’s terrified posture.

“It’s alright, dear, I’m here now.”

He walked over to the bed and wrapped his arms around Q, hands caressing each inch of Q’s body like to claim his belonging again, searching for wounds, bruises or marks of any kind he had to destroy and cover with his own.

“H-How did you k-know-“

“Your minions. One informed me the moment 003 dragged you out and I took the earliest flight I got.” He pressed a kiss on Q’s neck, then helped him into his trousers, shirt, cardigan, kissing him each time he did. “Next time, I will torture the person who dares to touch you. You should have told me.”

They left the hotel quickly, MI6’s men already taking care of any witnesses and the dead body, and returned home, where James made sure to leave enough marks in visible places to tell everyone to fuck off, he’s mine.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Can I have a fic where Bond and Q gets into an argument and Q ends up leaving the house. Then Bond will have to look for him through a rainy night only to find him at a place significant to both of them and they have some heart to hear talk. Thank you."

Anonymous asked: "Can I have a fic where Bond and Q gets into an argument and Q ends up leaving the house. Then Bond will have to look for him through a rainy night only to find him at a place significant to both of them and they have some heart to hear talk. Thank you."  
“It doesn’t bother me, you insufferable twat!”

“I know it does, don’t you lie to me Q.”

It was rare that Q and James fought, but when they did it always ended nasty. Once, James had destroyed their TV by throwing the remote into the screen, screaming something along the lines ‘If you don’t like the bloody program, then I’ll change it for you!’

It usually was Q who started it, he was aware of it. But James was insufferable, an arse, arrogant and didn’t know how Q’s routine was, and he always oved his things around because they were in the way when Q knew why he kept them there and not where James put them.

My stuff is my stuff, don’t you dare touching it.

And who had said that? Bond, of course, in his charming, mocking way, but Q knew better than try and move his gun off the kitchen table where it lay right next to the pancakes.

This time, it wasn’t something trivial. It wasn’t a tiny argument about who had to go and buy groceries, or whose turn it was to go and get new condoms, who had to clean (“You brought your blood all over the place, why should I clean?!” “Because you spilled your oil on the carpet and table!”)

This time, it was a new topic, and Q hated it. Wanted it to stop but was too proud to make it happen, it was easier to fight against James than try to calm him down and talk about the matter like two grown-up men.

“And why the fuck do you think I am lying?”, Q spat out, curses leaving his mouth like air, all his poshness gone when he was angry and just pissed off.

“Because that’s what people do, they lie.”

Q paused, feeling like someone had punched him in the stomach, air pressed out off his lungs. “Ah.” He turned around, heading towards the door. “If you mean to say that I am a liar, double-oh-seven, then fuck off.”

“Q-“

The door was banged close, just as a lightning illuminated the sky outside. It had been raining for hours, and Q was in his pjyamas, barefooted and without a coat.

Without thinking about it, James took his and Q’s coat and got outside in the darkness, searching for his partner in the rainy night.

xx

It took him twenty minutes to find Q, sitting on a bench in the park, staring at the trees and grass surrounding him. He was cold, shivering, and his clothes soaked, but yet Bond knew that he hadn’t returned because he was so damn proud.

James silently sat down next to him and wrapped the coat around Q’s shoulders, seeing how his fingers twitched as the younger wanted to reach out and cuddle against James’ side, but didn’t allow himself to.

Both were so full of pride, sometimes he wondered how they worked.

“I’m sorry I called you a liar, Q, I know you are anything but.”

He had started, now Q could jump over his shadow and just get on with it, because James didn’t have to leave their warm and cosy flat just to find him and he didn’t have to take his coat with him, he could have stayed in the living room on the couch, read or stare at their broken TV in hope that the new one soon would be delivered so they could rant about the program aga-

“It doesn’t matter to me with how many women you have to sleep during your missions, James”, Q’s voice, quiet, hoarse from the screaming he had done earlier and from tears wiped away by the rain, dragged James out of his thoughts, Q looking everywhere but at James, “I told you at the beginning of this. I don’t care. It’s your job and you don’t do it because you want to but because you have to.”

Finally, James reached out to wrap an arm around Q and draw him close, relieved that the younger man didn’t turn away but cuddled into his side, head finding its familiar spot on the agent’s shoulder.

“I don’t know why you put up with me and this.”

Q snorted, his shivering getting worse. “Because I love you, now take me home you bloody idiot.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I have found there's a lack of fem!Q fics. Wanna try you're hand at one? Something along the lines of everyone thinks she is a he, until she goes for a swim in the pool."

Q still had no idea why her presence had been required for this mission, and why she couldn’t have just stayed at MI6, wrapped up in her cosy and heated office, with her minions bringing her tea and where it didn’t matter that she was a woman and not a man.

No, she hadn’t been born in the wrong body and no, she didn’t want to become a man, but working in a service as old and traditional as the Mi6? It was a mistake to have boobs and brains, someone once had told her before she had put her heels into his shoes and her drink into his face.

She would have been fine sitting in the hotel room all day, helping Bond through the mission with a cup of cheap and disgusting liquid wrongly labelled as Earl Grey, but no, she had to be with him so she could hack into the computer by actually touching it and not her own.

And no, she couldn’t even sit at the bar or somewhere in the shadow, she had to act like she was one of those sun-loving, extrovert people going out for swims or sport and not only to get to work and back to the flat.

Bond next to her was amused, saying things like Oh come on, Q, it’s only a pool, you’ll see sun does wonder to your skin and they all made Q want to punch him in the face and walk away with this hip swinging Eve had tried to teach her.

There weren’t many people out there aware of the fact that she was a woman, M, Eve, but no one else.

It was almost amusing, she didn’t even want to hide her gender, everyone only automatically assumed that she was a man since she was the Quartermaster and not mistress, but she had insisted.

She didn’t want to sound like she was the main dominatrix or something.

Taking off her cardigan, she loosened the knot on her hair, making it look shorter than it actually was, and less feminine. It fell down her shoulders, and somewhere between taking off the three layers of shirts and her trousers, she thought she heard Bond’s jaw drop on the ground.

Now that was an amusing thought, making her chuckle.

“Why so surprised, double-oh-seven?”, she asked, and it was like her voice was less deep, actually sounding like a woman’s but only because she wanted to tease him now, and enjoy the glorious moment of having made James Bond speechless.

“I never made a big deal out of the fact that I have a vagina and not some balls like you do, why the surprise.”

He still was silent as Q, not caring that she had been naked in front of him, reached out to her bikini, putting it on and then shaking her head, curls falling over her eyes and covering half of her face as she walked out, leaving a puzzled Bond behind.

Later that night, James put her into his bed instead of the mark, whispering sweet words into her ear while he thrust into her almost gently, and for once she knew that the words weren’t lies and nonsense, but the truth.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> metaphoricalrhetorical asked: "While I'm here would you take a prompt in which Q somehow saves James and James comes back expecting him to be all cocky about it but in actual fact, he's a complete mess and is utterly furious with Bond for getting himself into danger that he couldn't get out of? Don't worry about it if you're busy with better prompts :}"

James somehow, magically or by sheer will-power, managed to drag himself back to the flat, despise all his attempts to find an excuse not to go now.

Which was rare, because usually he never checked in at the HQ, nor with M, but went straight to his Quartermaster, wherever he was. Sometimes he was at home, and then James would return to his loving arms, and sometimes he was at work so he would terrorise the minions until they would leave the two alone.

But right now, he had taken his time to do everything he was supposed to.

Returned his equipment and weapons, in one piece, to one of the minions.

Went to M and wrote his report in a matter of five minutes, being surprised about how efficient he would be when he wanted to avoid going home.

Had asked M if he had another mission Bond could go to like, how about now? But no, there hasn’t been any.

He had gone to the medical branch and got stitched up, had flirted with Eve even though both knew that he didn’t mean it serious and just tried to waste some time.

And then, he had have to go back to the flat because people got suspicious, and Q’s loyal minions always contacted him when he was going weird things so he couldn’t touch anything shiny and blow everyone up.

Nothing like a good explosion to wake those zombies up, James always said.

James carefully opened the door, expecting the Quartermaster to sit on the couch, sprawled out like a cat (which James usually did), claiming loudly that he had saved James’ arse and that he expected him to kiss his feet or make him tea or whatever.

Only because Q had found James in time before the bomb had went off, had managed to deactivate it, drag James and himself out and shield the agent’s body from the explosion.

James would have got out… somehow. Sometimes. Maybe.

Maybe it was his pride, or maybe he just wasn’t okay with people save him, but he refused to accept it like a grown-up because he knew Q would be all cocky about it.

James knew, he always was when Q needed him to save his arse.

The moment he had closed the door, he had a Q hanging on his side, hands gripping his face and forcing him down on eye-level, Q’s eyes angry and narrowed and furious.

James swallowed, preparing himself for what might come.

“You complete idiot! Why do you have to get yourself into danger like that? Why do I have to deal with this? You bloody, big idiot, why the hell do I love you enough to deal with this shit every day?”

It went on for hours, long after James had forced Q into bed, his mouth never stopping to form angry and insulting words until it became too much and James just shut him up to silence him.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Where Q has asthma and he had an attack when he didn't have his medication with him. Fortunately 007 carries one for emergencies."

Some idiot at the MI6 had thought bringing a flower in the office in the middle of spring was a wonderful idea and everyone would love him for it.

Well, no.

It was known, because of security reasons, that Q had asthma, not the serious kind where he couldn’t leave the house but the kind where he had to avoid flowers, pollens or anything of that kind.

It also was known that an asthma attack was triggered by pollens, and that a flower during spring had - take an educated guess - pollens.

Which was why, the moment Q entered the office that day, he began to sneeze. It was normal for him during spring, so he hardly paid any attention, just took out his tissues and swallowed some allergy pills, but it got worse and worse.

By lunch time, he was coughing, his eyes watering and nose itching, and he wanted to leave the office until it would be better.

Around noon, he hardly could breathe, and while someone already suspected it was the flower’s fault, the responsible minion didn’t want to take them down even though there was an inofficial rule about living creatures in Q-branch and how they most of the times ended up being used for experiments anyway, so why bother.

Q was called up to M, then down again, running and getting out of breath, his throat itching and vision getting blurry despise his glasses and he knew that it was an asthma attack because those were the first signs, always.

He got down, trying to walk slower and get his breathing under control again, but his order to the minion to take the fucking flower out or your computer will explode in confetti and your tears died in a coughing attack.

Q sank down on his knees and rubbed his face, hands closing around his throat to find the thing closing on it, a weight pressing down on his chest and making him cough again, minions gathering around him, their panicked screams for help and someone to get an inhalator dying as the edge of his vision turned blurry and black.

“Get out of the way.”

Oh, James.

How did he come up down here?

Something was pressed into his hand and said hand was lifted up to his mouth, and Q automatically inhaled, coughing but a hand on his back, rubbing circles, calmed him down, until soon he could let the inhalator down again and fall on the ground.

James joined him, both kind of relaxing on the ground, while everyone went back to work and the flower out.

“I told you to get your medication this morning”, James mumbled, smirking.

Q reached out to punch him in the side, but was too weak and just let his eyes fall closed, taking deep breaths.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shipimpala asked: "Are you still taking prompts? If so, could you write something with Q who have a terrible headache and Bond trying to help him? Thank you."

Another flash behind his eyes, another sting, the pulsation getting worse and worse and he just wanted to curl up.

Not even tea helped.

He had downed at least seven cups so far, and that in the last four hours he had been home.

Eve and his minions had sent him home after he had screamed at one for turning the light brighter again, and after demanding everyone to shut up, including M.

Working with computers held risks, he was aware of that. It wasn’t surprising for him that he got headaches, it wasn’t even something he wasn’t used to, it just was annoying and hurt and he could have finished this blasted bomb.

Q didn’t bother trying to do something against his headache, he knew that it would pass, he just had to wait for it.

Maybe sitting behind the desk at home, staring at the screen while King Arthur fought against seven dragons and five harpies in his head wasn’t the best idea, but he had work to do and he would hate himself later for it wouldn’t he do anything.

He was too lost in thoughts to notice that James came in, didn’t hear his footsteps nor looked up as the laptop was closed right in front of his eyes - he had closed them, and had started rubbing his temples with a painful expression.

His hands were taken off his head and his body lifted up, everything in Q protesting but he was too weak and tired, so he didn’t care.

James was, in times like these, a saint. He knew that he shouldn’t talk, nor force Q to do anything.

He just took over massaging his skull, dragging his nail softly through the curls, being all soft and wonderful.

Q felt his headache fade, going back until it was only a throbbing, and finally he could fall asleep again, with a kiss pressed on his forehead and a fond ‘Idiot’ mumbled against his skin.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chibura asked: "00Q: Q has multiple personality disorder. At least he has 3 personalities inside. And Bond has to say hello to all of them. He even has to make all of them fall in love with him. The original Q is the most hard to get. Poor Bond."

Q’s first personality was the normal one. Brilliant, with the need of glasses, sassy, sarcastic and too intelligent for his own good.

He never slept, hardly ate and considered himself as the evil overlord of Q-branch, sometimes sitting on the desk and not the chair, watching over the peasants and sipping tea from his goblet (mug).

James had met this personality first, and had thought it was the only one, but after meeting Q’s second, the one appearing when he was scared, stressed or high on tea or coffee, he had have his suspicion.

The second Q, Q-two, was colder. Like shut-down, and reminded James of his own personality after having fought off too many tragedies and pain, and careful, each step concentrated and glasses suddenly disappearing (“I don’t need them. I can see just fine, thank you.”)

It had taken James three times to figure out that it was another personality, and one time more to figure out that Q had multiple personality disorder, and that apparently M didn’t care.

Each personality was brilliant, the first one more into codes, the second one into building weapons and the third?

The third was a different kind of story. Cheerful, happy, but it all was faked. Shy, blushing all the time when James got into his personal space, and giggling like a school girl when he made him a compliment.

Q-three, like James called him in his mind, was right and not left-handed like the other personalities.

He liked his tea with three teaspoons of sugar and not five like the second and not two like the first, original one.

He liked it when James called him petnames, darling, dear, and especially baby. He loved it to be wooed and taken to dinners, and loved it when James kissed his knuckles to say goodbye, like a gentleman.

It was the first personality who fell in love with James, but not the only one.

Getting Q-two to love him was much more of a challenge, but nothing compared to the troubles he had gone through for the original Q.

Q-two had to be taken apart carefully, without him noticing it, and then put back together, with breakfasts shared, tea brought to him when he was lost and absorbed in his work, cupcakes and muffins, and gentle kisses on the top of his head.

He had to be handled like a bomb, so he wouldn’t blow off and be gone.

He needed gentle touches, gentle words, and the knowledge that there was someone who didn’t want to hurt him and whom he could trust with every secret.

Q-two kissed him for the first time after dinner, under the moon on their way back to his flat, and James knew he had won the second part.

Now only the original one had to get the memo.

He was harder to crack than Q-two and Q-three.

He was professional, didn’t want to get too close to someone as dangerous as Bond and had been through too many traumas to try and dare it. He was careful, like a cat, and Bond had to find out what he wanted so he could get him.

He returned the equipment in one piece, all of it.

He forced Q out of the office at two am after three days of not working, Q-two not yet having taken over but James knew it only would have been a matter of time. He brought Q new shiny things from all over the world, little statues and tea from China, a Russian puppet and French perfume.

And slowly, the original personality, the main one fell for him too.

And now he didn’t have to worry about being slapped or stared at when he dared to make a move, not having known which one was being in control right now, not having seen the signs yet.

Now he did, and despise what everyone said, should something ever happen which would Q cause to create another personality, he would make this one fall in love with him too.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eccentric-geek asked: "More fem!Q... Let's have some of the other double-oh agents hitting on Q. But like most social situations, she doesn't notice their passes. All the while 007 is seething with jealousy. Throw in some Q-mug cock-block too if it works."

It were tiny things which slowly drew Bond closer to taking his gun and shooting off the double-oh’s crown jewels one by one, tiny, little, and inappropriate things.

Like the tea double-oh-three would carry down all the way from the double-oh-section of MI6, only to give it to Q with a charming smile and sweet words.

James snorted at the thought, it was anything BUT charming but made other female agents blush, but Q didn’t notice it.

Like the winks double-oh-four would direct into Q’s direction, in the attempt for the Quartermistress to notice her and “give up denying her lesbian fantasies just for the sake of saving her precious vagina gift”

James had never before felt the urge to throw up because of words, but back then he had considered it.

Like double-oh-six, invading Q’s personal space, touching her hands and asking her out to dinner, only to realise that she wasn’t listening and working on her codes.

He could name many other examples, because out of a sudden every double-oh agent acted like they were hormone driven teenagers and Q the price to win. It was pathetic, a disgusting sight and no, it didn’t make him jealous.

No.

Maybe not.

Alright, yes, he was.

But he was very subtle about it.

He never threated to kill them, he never broke their legs, hands, or spines. He never shot double-oh-three in the balls, never cut off double-oh-four’s breasts and never thought about kidnapping Q and keeping her in her flat so no one could flirt with her.

No, he used something much more efficient and much more subtle, something evil enough to make him feel pity, but not really, more amusement.

The evil cock-blocking mug.

It was easy. Q darling, do you want some tea?

Q, dear, where is your mug, I wanted to throw out the cold tea and bring some new.

Or he subtly put it into her line of view, and she would get it on her own, saying that she needed new tea and left whoever was flirting with her alone. Or she would notice that it wasn’t there, after James had teased her about it Have you finally thrown away this old mug?.

The other double-ohs probably hated him for it, but he was a very possessive person and Q was his.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hi! I was wondering if I could prompt a coffee shop AU? If you do AU's at all. Kind of an obsession of mine so figured it was worth asking. Hope you have a wonderful day!"

Q usually never changed his place of eating, or drinking. Usually he went another route, from his flat through the tub and then to his UNI, passing the café and getting some tea and a cupcake on his way.

But today, the tub was closed due to the bad weather, and he had to take another way to not be late. Which was why he found his way into a new coffee shop - hopefully they had tea, he thought, looking at the sign in curiosity.

MI6.

What an awful name, he thought, getting inside. He could smell coffee (no tea), baked goods, cookies, fresh brownies, cupcakes and slices of cake, and there was the faint sound of music played, calming and peaceful.

He hated it.

But he sat down anyway, because outside it was raining and he had his daily routine, and it involved tea and a cupcake, so he would get it here and walk his way to school.

That was his plan and he would follow it exactly like he wanted.

Standing up after his body didn’t feel like turning into pure ice, he walked over to the counter, no one standing there yet.

But soon someone turned up, a blond, broad man with blue eyes brighter than the sky in London most of the days, and his whole appearance just screamed of what the fuck am I doing with my life.

He didn’t look that happy to be here, either.

That made two of them, Q supposed.

“Yes?”

Q raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to kiss my boots or something so I would come back again? Not exactly the best service I’ve seen so far.”

The man just narrowed his eyebrows for the glimpse of a moment, before his expression was cold and unimpressed again. “I won’t kiss the boots of some kid. What do you want.”

“I’m not a kid!”

“You barely are older than fourteen.”

“I’m of age, if you want to know it.”

The man raised an eyebrow, and said nothing, obviously impatiently waiting for Q to fuck off again.

“Do you serve tea?”

“We’re a coffee shop, not a café.” The man pointed up at their menu, printed up right above his head, like it was just there to annoy young students who dared to order tea in a British coffee shop.

“We’re in England. I know you must have tea.”

“Do you fuck off if I give you your tea?”

“You know what. No. I’ll stay.”

And just to annoy the man, Q sat down on one of the tables, taking out his laptop and just ordering a cupcake, knowing very well that the man must have hated him by that time.

xx

As Q came back a week later, blasted weather, the man told him his name - James Bond.

Q told him his was Q, got his cupcake and sat down again, with an evil smirk on his face, seeing the eye roll from the corner of his eyes.

xx

Soon, Q came every day, and every day he stayed longer than necessary, sometimes came back after his lectures just to annoy Bond.

By the tenth time, Bond placed a cup down in front of him, and the scent of Earl Grey filled Q’s nose, making him look up.

Bond smiled down at him, charming, warm and Q felt himself blush, mumbling a thanks.

After this, he got his tea every day, and after a month, he got a kiss, tasting like coffee and tea and cigarettes.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loveless801 asked: "Q fears planes, but he has to join 007 to field work. He started to have a breakdown and it's only 007 keeping him down and not out the window."

“Let me go!”

“No, Q, calm down. It’s only a plane.”

“Only a - only a plane?!”

It took Q four seconds to get rid of James’ grip, and three to run as fast as he could. James only rolled his eyes and got after him, ignoring the stewards staring at the two and calming them down with a charming smile of his.

They weren’t even off ground yet, and if Q acted like that before the plane was taken off yet, James didn’t even want to know how the hell both of them would survive this.

He slowly began to ask himself the same question as Q did: Why did the Quartermaster have to go along?

Of course it would be easier to get access to the network would he be there, but he could have done it from the office and everyone would have been fine. James wouldn’t have had a migraine at two am in the morning and no access to alcohol yet, and Q not a breakdown.

Panic attack.

PTSD.

Whatever the hell that was.

He found Q trying to use his laser gun to open one of the windows in the plane where no stewardess currently was standing, the red light already about to be hot enough to be used, but James just gripped Q’s arm and forced him back again.

“Let me go, let me go!”, Q screamed, and James rolled his eyes, wondering if he should have accepted the drug cocktail for Q as it had been offered.

“No, Q. It won’t crash or burn or whatever you think is going to happen.”

Q glared at him, eyes wide, filled with tears and his chest rising and sinking quicker than it should have. Quicker than James’ when he had have to run after a target for three hours, and that had to mean something, didn’t it?

“Do you even know the statistics? Do you even know how likely it is that we both will die?!”

“Yes, and we won’t. I’ve been flying with a plane for more than twenty years, Q, just calm down.”

“No. I. Won’t!”

It was fascinating how a person screaming their lungs out about how they wanted to get out, oh god please let me out, I don’t want to die, could be deadly silent the moment the plane started to move.

James had expected more screaming, the attempt to jump through the tiny window next to him - he wasn’t stupid enough to let Q sit at the window - or even the laster-number again, but Q sat there, deadly pale, with sweat running down his forehead and grip around his tablet so strong that his knuckles were white and visible.

“Q?”

The other didn’t react, just began to shiver as the plane finally took off, clouds and the disappearing lights of London getting tinier and tinier.

“Q?”

Out of a sudden, Q turned around, burried his face in James’ neck and began to sob, mumbling something incoherent under his breath while hyperventilating.

A bit helplessly, James wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss on his forehead, trying to keep him calm and inside the plane, not on his way down through the window.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "hi. something comfort/fluffy after they first time?"

“Did I hurt you?”

James didn’t have to see Q’s face, which was burried in his chest, to know that he just had rolled his eyes, and didn’t have to see his expression to know that he should have thought about the tea before asking something first.

Too late for that now.

“Why do you think you did, oh-all mighty dragon?”

James didn’t ask. He once had dared, but Q-branch was like a bunch of WoW-playing nerds, and they had their inside-jokes and names for everyone.

There was worse than ‘almighty dragon’.

“Because there are bruises and marks all over your back and on your hips, and I can tell that your lovely backside hurts.”

Q turned a bit, and James grimaced, wondering if he should get up and get something to clean the two of them up - Q’s stomach was full of come, and James knew from experience that his arse probably was too.

A nice thought, but not really important right now.

“I’m not made out of glass or porcelain, James”, Q mumbled, pressing a lazy kiss on James’ chest, right where his heart and a scar lay, “I thought the noises I made were proof enough how I enjoyed it.”

“But-“

Q’s hand came to rest on James’ mouth and he closed it again, blinking in surprise at the aim Q had when he wasn’t even looking. Impressive, for a computer geek.

“Nothing but. Now close your eyes and sleep, it’s Saturday.”

James smiled and leant down to kiss Q’s messy hair, playing with the curls until his Quartermaster had fallen asleep again, and only then closed his eyes as well.

Not sleeping, but listening. And cherishing.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hi! It's the anon with the demon and 003 prompts! You are really an amazing writer! I have another prompt, if you don't mind. Q manages to cut the power in all of MI6 so James goes into Q's office and they end up at James' flat, having sexy time XD"

Years later, they would call it the ‘Blackout of doom’, at least those in Q-branch did.

But right now, everyone called it names in twenty languages at least, like a challenge who could insult the electricity better and with dirtier words, the price was the silent acknowledgment of the minions and maybe Q.

Even though this time, it actually has been Q’s fault.

He didn’t even know why. He had only put this cable into that plug, had connected it to the generator and had turned on the engine, but then maybe he shouldn’t have connected it all to the automatic emergency-shut down system down in his branch.

If he thought about it, yes, that probably was the mistake.

From one second to the other, everything went black. The computer screens, formerly blue and electric, went dark, the minions screaming and yelping in surprise and one screaming ‘Satan!’ while jumping away from the screen like it was a demon.

But it wasn’t only Q-branch without light - the whole MI6 was black. The electricity? Gone.

For twenty-four hours at least, emergency protocol.

Q was still holding his cable in the hand, staring at the generator as Bond came down, amused with this smug grin of his, ignoring how the minions glared at him like it was his fault.

“Q?”, he asked into the darkness, lifting a torch and titling his head at his partner. “Don’t look like the world ended, come on. We go home.”

Numbly, Q nodded, let the cable fall down, took it off the shut down system again so no one would immediately notice it was his fault - not that someone would try and take over his throne - and then followed James out, saying something incoherent at his minions who just sat there, staring at the screen in hope they would be turned on again.

One might have ran around, screaming, but what happened in Q-branch stayed in Q-branch.

The ride to James’ flat, the dragon’s den, wasn’t long, a walk of ten minutes but of course James had insisted to use the car, so they made it in four and a half.

James made Q some tea as soon as they were upstairs, his Quartermaster numb and just sitting there as if his energy had been shut down and not MI6’s, fingers closing and opening around the mug’s handle. It almost was cute, but then James didn’t want to spend his day staring at a traumatised Q, so he took the mug again and lifted Q up to straddle his lap.

“I know something to distract you”, he mumbled, rolling his hips up so painfully slowly, causing Q to moan quietly and take his glasses off, “Much better.”

They quickly moved from the couch to James’ bed, clothes all over the ground like a trail to them.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Something with Bond being protective of Q would make me very happy c:"

M once had asked if Q needed a bodyguard, like every other member of MI6 of value had, and Q had just shaken his head, smiling.

Because he didn’t need a bodyguard, nor two, three or seven.

He already had one.

At least James thought that he was his bodyguard, and Q was fine with it as long as he was allowed to go to the bathroom alone.

James sometimes was like a mother-hen, a very dangerous, armed, wolf-like mother-hen, but still one.

He forced Q to eat when he had forgotten about it again, carried him out of the office after two days of not sleeping (despise the protests and the screams), made sure he always had enough tea and that no one dared to touch his mug, brought him fresh clothes when work had been too stressful and Q not able to leave the office - to make it short, he acted like an overprotective and overbearing mother-hen or someone who was obsessed.

It only was that James was used to people dying around him.

Everything he touched died, and those he fell in love with quicker and more brutal than the rest.

His parents, Vesper, M.

He couldn’t loose Q, he had told him that quite early in their relationship, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. And so he had accepted his self-given, not-so-secret mission ‘Act like Q is made out of glass and protect him from everything’.

Someone tried and blame Q for a mistake with his weapon or equipment? James had a sensor for such a thing, because he would always enter like he had listened to the whole conversation, return his equipment in one piece and say how wonderful Q was and that it had saved his life.

Someone tried to attack Q, kidnappers, drunken interns or someone on the street tried to steal his tablet? James knew how to kill a person in 192 ways alone with his bare hands, and he also knew how to cause pain without the reason being traced down. And he didn’t hesitate to use this power to protect Q from enemies, M, his minions, a duck or his breakfast toast.

Q thought that maybe he should have been annoyed by it, that maybe he should have told James to stop.

But it was too cool to turn around in his chair after calling a minion in his office, James standing behind him with his arms crossed in front of his chest and grin beastly, saying ‘I have been expecting you.’


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> twistedsavior asked: "I'm sure you've probably had one similar before but,...how about Q has a tattoo along his rib cage (something interesting) and 007 notices it one day while they're in Q Branch under a white dress shirt (Q cursing in his head about it being hot in the branch so he took off his cardigan). 007's personal mission is to see what it is, but winds up falling for Q. He finally gets to see it their first time in bed together and worships it. ((You've done a lovely job on fills. I'm excited already!))"

There was something colourful underneath Q’s shirt, right on his rib cage.

James couldn’t tell what it was, but it was there, especially visible when Q wasn’t bent over something or sitting on his desk. When he just was standing with his front turned into the direction James was sitting, or when he stretched, muscles sore from working for hours straight.

He had never seen it before, but then, Q had never taken off his cardigan before either. Q-branch was warm today - something about testing a machine which required thirty-one degrees celcius or else the results wouldn’t be accurate, James hadn’t really listened and more stared at Q’s chest - almost hot, but Q always had worn the cardigan.

Even when everyone else had been in shorts and a shirt, Q always wore his hideous cardigan and those stupid trousers.

Not today, and at this day James accepted his personal mission: Finding out what Q’s tattoo, it couldn’t have been anthing else, was.

He spent more time down in Q-branch, waiting for another hot day so Q would take off his cardigan, but it never came again.

Maybe it was a mug? With this Q and the 10 as its tail?

No, it had have too much colour for that, not a mug.

And neither a computer and or tablet, he would have seen that.

James remembered lines, and colours, but not which ones and how the lines have been located on the rib cage.

It was a challenge, and he was just too damn curious, but he was a spy and finding out Q’s tattoo shouldn’t have been that hard.

As the ‘sit and watch’ tactic didn’t work, he took over to flirting with Q, trying to make him mention if he had a tattoo or not.

He even played ‘I have never…’ with him one night, as he had taken out Q to dinner and then to his flat afterwards to drink and celebrate the latest mission, but Q hadn’t answered his question what the tattoo was after drinking a sip of the wine.

It was equally frustrating and fascinating, a cat-and-mouse hunt, something exiting, and slowly James found himself spending more and more time with Q, sitting next to him on his desk when he didn’t have a mission, chatting with him over the earpiece when he waited for a target or was in his hotel room, flirting with him almost all the time, going out to lunch or dinner or just walking through the city when both felt like going outside at the air.

It took James three months to realise that he had fallen for the geeky Quartermaster, and a week plus to stop panicking and just accept it.

His flirting got more serious, he returned the equipment in one piece and without any damage, brought souvenirs from China, Brasil, India, Germany, Belgium and all over the world, he courted Q and made him compliments until…

Until one evening, after dinner, they ended in James’ bed, and he forgot about the tattoo for a moment to cherish the body underneath his own, drown in the moans and sighs, loose himself in the sensation.

It only was afterwards, both exhausted and still caught in the afterglow, that James sat up and looked down on Q’s ribs.

It indeed were lines, but not normal ones like he had expected, but codes. The lines were made out of codes, dozens and dozens all over his ribcage, too tiny to see them at the first glance, but James noticed them immediately.

The lines looked like feathers, or fire, he couldn’t even tell, and they were red, green, yellow, blue, orange, purple and black.

James trailed one with his fingers, leaning down to press a kiss on each and every, licking over the numbers and tasting sweat.

Q underneath him chuckled, smiling as James as he looked up. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you”, Q said quietly, “There is a story behind it, you know?”

James lay down again, pulling Q against his chest, still touching the tattoo. “Tell me.”


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "How about an AU where Q is a writer who needs motivation and found it while Bond. :D"

“What are you writing?”

Q ignored James completely, fingers flying over the keyboard, eyebrows narrowed in concentration and tip of his tongue stuck out, words appearing so quickly on the screen that James hardly could follow.

“Earth at Q?”

“I’m writing.”

James rolled his eyes, sitting down on the desk next to Q with a cup of coffee in his hand. “Obviously. What are you writing?”

“A spy novel.”

Only thanks to James’ control he didn’t spill coffee all over the screen and desk, but he made a sound close to a snort and cough, putting the mug down before something stupid could happen.

He had already spilled a… different kind of liquid over Q’s laptop once, and still felt the pain in his back from sleeping on the couch for two weeks.

“A spy novel? Are you serious?”

Q chuckled. “No, of course not. As lovely as it sounds to write a book in which I reveal any of your secrets and because of which I could be killed as a traitor, not to mention that the world definitely needs more arrogant and alcoholic super spies.”

James hit Q’s shoulder with the newspaper, careful not to smack him too hard, only a light brush but strong enough to visualise his point.

“I’m… I just had an idea this night and had to write it down.”

“After we had sex? Do I need to worry that I haven’t fucked you well enough?”

Q sighed, making a move to stand up and take his laptop with him, but James gently pushed him down on the chair again and leant over to kiss his head.

“I’m sorry. What did you have an idea about?”

“It’s… stupid. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t even write it down, everyone’ll laugh at me a-“

James leant backwards again, a smug smirk on his lips as Q blinked, taken back by the kiss. He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, before typing agian.

“Thank you.”

“Welcome. So?”

“So?”

“Your idea. What is it?”

Q sighed. “It’s about two men who both lost someone significant in their lives, and after drinking too much they end up being in bed with each other. But instead of being embarrassed, they kind of start dating and getting closer, realising that they fit and work.”

James hummed and took his mug again, downing it before he carefully chose his words, teasing Q who was staring at him in expectation and awaiting a praise or something alike.

“It’s good. Really. Better than a boring spy novel about an alcoholic, charming super spy.”

Q chuckled and reached out to his own mug, raising an eyebrow.

“Keep on going like that and the main character’s name is James.”

James leant down and kissed Q, before walking towards the kitchen. “That would be an honour actually.”

Q rolled his shoulders. “Oh shut up.”


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "00Q Angels!AU: Where Bond is a fallen angel, Q just earned his wings and is inexplicably in charge of a bunch of fledgelings (angel interns, I guess), and sincerely hopes he won't be caught fraternizing with the enemy. Meanwhile, M, Moneypenny, Tanner, (all also angels) and the fledglings are getting real tired of Bond and Q's shit and really wish they'd stop their terrible attempts at flirting and hiding their emotions and JUST FUCK ALREADY FOR CHRIST SAKE."

Q shouldn’t have, and he knew it.

He shouldn’t have started talking to the double-oh agent outside of work, not since he was a fallen one.

With wings black and huge, some feathers missing, scars all over it, and his grace twisted and burnt and it sometimes was too much to even look at him.

Q had just got his own wings, not as huge as Bond’s, white, clear, pure, unharmed.

They shouldn’t have talked outside of work, or shouldn’t have flirted like they did. Q shouldn’t blush at every compliment the fallen gave him, and Bond should stop flirting with him and just return the bloody equipment.

But none of them made a move to stop, and Q didn’t mind it as much as he should have.

No, he looked forward to every time Bond returned from a mission, spent his time up at Q-branch instead of his flat on earth, spent hours and hours watching Q make equipment, type on his computer or give orders to fledgelings.

They should have known that one day, someone would comment on it, but maybe Q had been naive enough to hope that he would be fine and that no one would ask him to put a stop to this.

In fact, no one did. No one told them to stop flirting, and keep the appropriate distance, no.

M just came in, followed by Eve and some fledgelings looked up from their work, all staring at M as he stopped in front of Q and Bond - the latter sitting on Q’s desk, and just having been about to flirt with him again, but now was hard-faced and tried to get away as quickly as he could.

“Bond, stay. I will only say that once and then never again, so better listen now, both of you. I think I’m saying that in the name of the whole AMI6, but stop trying to hide what you feel for each other, I’m getting tired of this enormous drama. It is worse than this emotional hurricane around Romeo and Juliet, so just kiss and leave me alone.”

Q blinked. James blinked.

The interns looked down and began to whisper and work, all while Q felt like he was paralysed or had been punshed down to earth.

But suddenly, there were lips on his own and he looked up, seeing James standing there with his wings wrapped around Q’s body, the Quartermaster’s tinier ones brushing against them.

“You heard him. Do you want me to corrupt you?”

Q rolled his eyes and kissed James again, wrapping his arms around him.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "00q prompt: Bond (who's in denial about his feelings for his quartermaster) for whatever reason has to take care of a temporarily de-aged Q. At first, he's annoyed that he's stuck babysitting, but later starts to enjoy taking care of the younger Q"

“There is no fucking way I will take care of that!”

Eve glared at him, and Q gave a squeel, or whatever that sound was supposed to be.

James felt stared at from four pair of eyes, and held his hands up in defense. Really, he liked Q, he liked the stuff he built and all that, and he might or might not have been in love with him, but no.

No, no, no. No. No. No.

“Don’t you dare swearing while he is around, our poor Q-tie doesn’t need to hear that”, Eve hissed, rubbing soothing circles on Q’s back, his eyes wide and curious as he stared at all the shiny things in Q-branch, the minions hiding somewhere behind the tables to later not be killed because it was their fault.

“How the he-” Eve glared at him, and he stopped in the middle of the sentence. “-How did that even happen?”

Had he been able to see the heads of the minions underneath the tables earlier, he now couldn’t see anything. Q-branch looked empty, with no people in it.

“Something about they were curious and mixed together things they weren’t supposed to and Q as their overlord drank it to show how wonderful he is and - tata.”

Q made grabby hands at one of the guns laying on the table, bubbles leaving his mouth. It was… James didn’t know whether to call him disgusting or cute, and either way he was sure he would suffer because of it later.

“But why do I have to take care of him?”

“Because M wanted it and because Q only lets me hold him and I really don’t want to play babysitter.” She pressed Q against James’ chest, waited until he had put his hands on Q’s side and then walked away, quicker than her high heels probably should have allowed.

James turned around and threw a deadly glare into the direction of a desk, hearing a silent plea for help.

Ignoring how toddler-Q tried to get his hands on the gun laying there - because it was shiny - and how he made happy noises, James walked out of the HQ, hoping no one saw him doing this.

There must have been a law against forcing one’s double-oh-agent to babysit their de-aged Quartermaster, there must have been a law or rule.

Or this was punishment.

xx

At first, James had been tempted to give Q his gun and watch how much danger he could do with it when he hardly could hold a glass of orange juice without spilling it all over the place. But Eve had apparently found out that he had given a gun to a toddler and the threat to get his balls cut off was very efficient.

So he was stuck finding something to entertain Q, or else he would go crazy.

Q was a very quiet child, unless he saw something he liked, then he was trying to speak and it ended it babbling and giggling, which was cute yes, but James didn’t like salvia on his couch, table, laptop or himself.

Q liked being read, so James bit into the sour apple and read him from a Math book he found in a library, watching how Q doze off. At least something normal about the kid.

He even tried teaching Q how to walk as he got bored, and was surprised just how quick he learnt. He already could say James - or more “Jaywns” - and Eve, knew the words for mathematical problems James hadn’t known at that age, and could count to one hundred without any mistakes in English, French and Chinese, with a few problems.

James would voluntarily jump into a room filled with armed killers with only a pan in his hand before he would admit that he enjoyed taking care of Q, but he really did.

Q was… cute.

So exited about everything, a picky eater, lovely, and he seemed to love James more than Eve, much to her annoyance.

He always began to cry when he was out of James’ arms or reach, and when James had attempted to go to work when Q had been asleep, he had returned to a crying and screaming baby in the middle of destroyed radios and with the gun in the toddler’s hands, bullets all over the place.

And it had been heartbreaking to see the tear-filled eyes staring up at him, only to be witness to the smile appearing.

Q had let go off the gun, grabby hands reaching out to James and he had said: “Jaywns!” like it was the most important word in the word.

James would never admit it, but taking care of toddler-Q was something he enjoyed, and he almost felt a bit of sadness as they found a cure.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Despite their differences Dog!James and Cat(or whatever animal you want)!Q fall in love?"

It was an old tradition at the Six that they always had a cat and a dog in the building, the dog trained to attack and smell explosives, and the cat just because one of M’s predecessors had have his own in the office every day.

The old cat just had died, much to everyone’s sadness, but a young kitten had quickly been found and named Q - another old tradition, much to the Quartermaster’s amusement.

A tiny, slender one with messy, curly fur and sharp eyes, just as hissy as intelligent, anything but lazy and with the tendency to meow whenever one of the minions down at Q-branch made a mistake.

Someone said the ghost of the old Q had been brought back into the world as a cat, but that was just another theory like the dog had eaten the bullets which were gone.

James and Q had never been supposed to like each other, they were like fire and ice, like cat and dog.

One rather old, grumpy dog, snarling and growling at everyone who dared to get too close to him, and a young, far too enthusiastic kitten?

They wondered who would give up first, and who would be the new king over the territory, but no one expected the situation to happen like it did.

Three weeks after Q had been brought into MI6, they found him sleeping on top of James’ back, the dog baring his teeth at everyone who wanted to approach the two.

No one could seperate them. If James was up to annoy M by snapping away his files, then Q was with him, usually enjoying the petting by Eve and letting himself be given snacks and a few sips of tea.

If Q was down in Q-branch to scare the living hell out of the minions, then James happily helped him.

They were cute, together, like they were born to show everyone that a cat and a dog could work.

Almost like they were humans, someone said, and they decided to give both matching collars, which both wore with pride like they knew what they meant.

Six months after they had got Q, an idiot managed to blow up Q-branch.

It was a tiny explosion, and no one had died, but they might as well have brought out the wolf in James. He had came down, barking and howling, waking up three sleeping minions who had been laying on their desks, and Q, before simply dragging the cat out with his teeth.

No need to warn the humans that soon the whole office would burn and break into pieces, because as long as Q was safe, he didn’t care about who lost his arm and who was burnt alive.

Q was safe, and that was the only thing the dog cared about.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "How about....one of Q's minion's accidentally causes serious harm to Q in the branch. Bond just so happens to walk in right after it happens and sees Q bleeding a bit."
> 
> _and_
> 
> Anonymous asked: "If you’re still taking prompts, something where Q gets injured in some way by someone and Bond going all ape-shit would be fantastic. (:"

It was a known fact that the members of Q branch were nerds, and sometimes they fought over things like what the best movie was, who the better Spiderman or Hulk has been, if WoW should be hacked and taken down forever or who was the poor soul who had to get out and buy today’s coffees.

And sometimes… sometimes they literally fought.

Not verbally, but physically, and the rulers they sometimes used when drawing new designs for weapons were turned into swords and the hats during winter were helmets.

Usually Q watched everything from his throne, sitting on his desk and watching everything in amusement, at the end deciding whether the minion who had lost would be killed (forced to monitor the next seven missions but James’) or allowed to live.

It always was fun, and what else should geeks do when they had nothing to do and an issue to take care of?

Speak about it like grown-ups and take it to M like schoolboys?

No, they were more than capable of taking matters into their own hands, and a fight now and then kept the minions entertained and happy, no need to think about a revolution or protest to demand more tea.

But today, one of the minions - Claire - had thrown her glove down on the ground in front of Q’s feet, loudly claiming that she would defeat him in a glorious fight and that she would be the victor getting the cupcake today.

Being a man of honour, Q had accepted, and minutes later they were trying to poke each other into the chest with their rulers, the others surrounding them in a cheering circle.

Whoever had to watch the security recordings today would have an interesting view, but then they probably already were used to it and ignored Q-branch as much as possible.

What else to expect from people running on coffeine?

Q had just dodged an attack, about to use his ruler to conter, but Claire attacked his feet and made him move backwards, stumbling over a cable laying on the ground.

The world moved in a swirling blurry way, everything suddenly in slow motion, the minions screaming out in surprise, and one in horror.

Q stumbled backwards, falling to the ground with his head hitting the edge of his desk, a pained moan leaving his mouth as he hit the flour and lay still, feeling blood on the back of his head and in his hair.

Immediately, there were hands around him to help him sit up, a worried voice asking if they should contact the medical branch, and a deep, angry one telling them all to get the fuck away or he would kill them.

Q recognised this voice, even with the headache building behind his eyes and the pain making him feel numb and almost at the edge of unconsciousness.

Bond.

Nice timing, like always.

“James?”, he asked weakly, not being able to open his eyes again because the light was too bright and it hurt too much, “Lift me up? The floor is cold.”

A murmur went through his minions as Bond pushed them out of the way, kneeling next to his lover and helping him up. He carried him out bride-style, arms under Q’s legs and torso.

“Are you going to fade?”

Q thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

And he was off, head falling against James’ chest who grunted and walked faster.

xx

The next week, as James let Q return to work again, Claire was gone.

He heard whispers of poor girl, and _I have never seen someone cry that much before_ , _At least he didn’t kill her_ and knew better than to ask.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tracionn asked: "Oh please don't hate me but I just had this idea and would love to read a fill. But no stress, it's not urgent at all! Q has 'known' (as in heard of etc) Bond already before Skyfall, working for MI6 already and he has been secretly monotoring Bond all the time, even in his sleepless nights sitting on his bed in his pyjamas where he was looking out for Bond. And also tracing the screen with his fingers whenever CCTV, or he himself, caught him clearly enough). A little scene around that plz?"

“Q, would you please come here?”

Stopping in the middle of his motion, Q let the cup sink down again, just having been about to drink a sip of his tea.

If M called him for whatever reason, through the whole office and whole Q branch, then it must have been important.

Narrowing his eyebrows, he wondered what he had done wrong this time.

Had he blown something up this time? No, the last explosion had been a week ago and he had have his hour in the corner of shame already.

None of his exploring in the servers of the CIA, NSY or private computers of the Queen, the PM or M had been discovered, or else he would have been in a cell facing a stone face with sunglasses on.

So what could be wrong?

He thought about it on his way to the office and it hit him just as he saw his favourite agent’s back.

What had Bond done this time?

“Quartermaster, we have been informed about a mistake in our security and checked who when had access to which file or camera”, M said instead of a greeting, and the way James held back a smile, Q knew that he must have been caught doing something, “So would you kindly explain me why since you were recruited for MI6, you hacked into our system and read all files about double-oh-seven?”

Q turned to face the agent, who now was smirking, obviously amused.

“I-“

“No excuses, Q, you won’t get punished. We even found out you helped us find him several times and pointed his location out to the monitoring agent. Is that true?”

Q nodded after hesitation, already seeing himself on a vacation in the corner of shame for at least a week or more.

“And do you admit that you hacked into the security cameras of each country to watch over double-oh-seven 24/7?”

Once again, Q nodded, beginning to blush.

Now even M was smiling, this dog-like smirk only agents who had a gun in their bedside-table and top-drawer of their desk had. “That was all. Thank you, Quartermaster.”

With that, he went out again, leaving Q and James alone.

The agent winked at Q and made his turn to leave, not without turning around to give a last, winning comment. “Your obsession is kind of cute, Q.”

Q blushed deeper, mumbling something about insufferable agents and how they would make the acquaintanceship with the couch this night.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "prompt : Q and Bond have a date ,and some group of homophobes men don't like seeing they together. Angst/hurt/comfort fic. Thank you <3"

“Hey, fairies!”

“Why so tense, toy boy, don’t you want your daddy to find out that you’re a faggot?”

“God, how disgusting. I think I have to vomit.”

James really had intended to walk away from the scene and drag Q along, not seeing a reason to go against civilians just because of personal reasons, even he had morals and beating the shit out of homophobic idiots wasn’t excused.

But insulting Q was another story, and they had in two of their three sentences.

“James, ignore them”, Q mumbled quietly, squeezing James’ hand which he was holding tightly in his, “Please. We don’t want any fuss…”

“Listen to your toy boy, faggot, wouldn’t want your pretty face to get messed up, right?”

Once again Q tried to keep him calm, but all that James was beginning to feel was anger and fury, eyes growing cold. He felt the urge to turn around and shove his fist into one of their faces, but Q tried to drag him along, his footsteps getting quicker as he tried to get the two away from the five men behind them.

It just had been a normal date, in a nice restaurant somewhere outside of the heart of London, but then they had decided to walk through a dark alley to get home faster - in the thought that nothing could happen with James around, only to be talked to by those five strangers.

They had been behind them since the park, where James had kissed Q’s cheek and the younger had giggled with a blush.

His free hand went inside his jacket, the cold metal of the gun underneath his fingertips making his blood boil.

He didn’t plan on shooting them, but scaring them? That would teach them a lesson.

“Faggot, are you listening, you stupid cunt?”

Enough was enough. Turning around, James ignored the comments about how he was a pervert, dating someone that younger than he was, and how disgusting and wrong they were for doing that, how he could have been Q’s father, and took out his gun, aiming for the first one’s head.

They flinched backwards, one taking out a knife, the other hissing at him for being stupid, the rest just paralysed in shock.

“If you dare to insult my partner one more time, I will kindly make you shut up by putting a bullet through each of your skulls. And if I ever see you again, forcing your homophobic and idiotic view on someone, then I will hunt you down one by one and make sure that you won’t use your mouth soon again.” He made a gesture with his gun, finger at the trigger. “Fuck off.”

They ran, faster than they ever had probably, one stumbling and falling into the dirt before he could get up again.

James watched them go, keeping the gun out before they had went away and were out of his sight. Q pulled on his arm and made him put them away again, glaring at him.

“You know that you’ll have to explain that to M?”

James shrugged, keeping on walking again. Q followed, fighting off a smile.


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I can't cope with your beautiful writing arrghh. Here have another prompt: Q is kidnapped, and during his time in captivity is tormented and humiliated, but after Bond rescues him he lets on that nothing happened. However, when Bond makes a move towards Q in an attempt to get him back into his bed after a dry spell, Q flinches away and the truth suddenly becomes obvious and Q's a bit of a mess 'cause he's all ashamed and fluff ensues"

“Hello love”, James mumbled as he stepped behind Q in the kitchen, breath brushing the Quartermaster’s neck.

He tried to ignore how Q tensed in surprise, but he figured that being tortured made someone who wasn’t used to it do that, flinch and worry.

He couldn’t remember the first time he had been tortured, it had been years ago, and he wasn’t sure how it had felt, back then.

Q had said that they had done nothing to him except a slap or two, and the screaming, the gun against his temple, but somehow James had the feeling that there had been more, and the other was just hiding it.

He hoped he wasn’t, though, because if he did James didn’t know if he would trigger a panic attack or memory by doing something wrong.

“Hello James.”

James leant forward, pressing a kiss on Q’s neck and wrapping an arm around his waist, already half-hard at the thought and the anticipation of what he planned to do with his Quartermaster today.

“I hope you haven’t missed me? I brought you a souvenir from India, some tea.”

Q only nodded and mumbled a ‘Thanks’, having gone silent, which was uncharacteristic and worrying.

Wrong. But James understood that he needed time, and he planned on making him relax.

“Why so silent, dear?”, James asked quietly, pressing another kiss on Q’s neck, right where he could feel his pulse quicken, moving his hands to Q’s front and down to open his zip, other going up to his shirt to unbutton it…

But Q flinched away, back hitting the fridge, eyes wide and breathing faster.

James froze, taking a step backwards to give Q some space. He had seen this look already, on the Quartermaster’s face as they had found him in the cellar with the men who had apparently done more than just slapped him.

Tears ran down Q’s face and he stepped closer to him, carefully wrapping his arms around the younger and keeping him close. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

Q shook his head. “I-I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry… I… got this is embarrassing, isn’t It? You get tortured all the time and never react like this…”

James silenced him with a soft kiss. “You’re not born for the field, my dear. You aren’t used to this. I am. I am sorry, dear.”

They stood like that for two hours, before Q fell asleep and James carried him out to the bedroom, putting the bottle of lube away again.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I hope you realize how amazing you and your works are! Can I ask one where Q has a cat that interrups he and James when they are having sexytimes? And after a couple of incidents Bond always makes sure the cat is locked outside the bedroom? Thank you!"

Q’s cat wasn’t any better than his mug, if not worse.

Why? It could move. James couldn’t just hide it somewhere in the cupport where he knew Q never would look when he wanted to have sex with his partner, or just kiss, or just lay on the couch without Q getting up and searching for it even when he didn’t want to drink any tea.

No, the cat was worse.

It moved. It made noises and Q loved it dearly.

He cuddled it whenever James had just wasted twenty minutes of foreplay, all the sexual tension and aura gone the moment this cute ball of fluff meowed and jumped on the bed.

James didn’t hate it, because no one could hate this cute creature and its purring whenever he lay down on James’ chest, lap or Q’s.

But he was annoying. and bothersome.

This devil of a creature would always jump on the bed when James had nearly managed to begin fucking Q into the mattress, being all fluffy and cuddly and Q would be in love with him again, ignoring James and his erection for the sake of petting the cat.

Sometimes he was tempted to shoot it, or throw it out of the window to see if a cat really landed on his feet, even out of a window in the 25th storey of a building.

But Q would hate him.

He had have his dear cat since it has been a kitten, had found it on the street and there was no way he would let his baby go. And Q could turn into a monster if someone hurt his babies, not to imagine what he would do would the cat disappear or die.

So instead, after he had got his crotch kneaded thrice in the short time they were a couple, a few incidents he didn’t want to think about, he always locked the door when he wanted to take Q to bed.

He locked it, or locked the cat into the room it currently was inside, and sometimes just threw some food into another room to get it away.

Q didn’t seem to mind, nor notice, for both of their sakes.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt: Please can you write the story behind Q's tattoo in /post/39121184105/im-sure-youve-probably-had-one-similar-before" (chapter 44)

Q sighed, resting his head on James’ shoulder, silent for a few moments before he began to speak, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I started working with computers earlier than most other people, I believe.”

James raised an amused eyebrow. “Yes, I already figured that, youngest Quartermaster of all times.”

He got a soft slap on his back for interrupting Q, and a kiss on his neck as an apology. Q could create weapons and could destroy countries with one click on his mouse, but the mere thought of hurting James gave him the character of a puppy.

Or a kitten, depending on the day and Q’s general mood.

“I started with six years, got on my father’s computer and tried to hack into it, I figured his password out easily. I got hooked. I never had many friends, and I rarely got outside at all, always stayed inside the house.”

“How come? Did you hate the other children that much?”

Another slap, another kiss, and James found himself chuckling.

“No, I didn’t hate them.”

“So… why did you prefer the computer’s electrical company over a human’s?”

Q sighed, squirming in James’ arms and the agent tightened his grip around him possessively. “I had to stay inside or else I probably would have ended up in hospital. You know that both my circulation and my immune system are bad, but they have been close to none-existing in my childhood. So I had to stay inside in the warmth and away from potential viruses and diseases. And I prefered the computer over books, because I quickly read through them.”

“I see. And how did you come to the tattoo?”

No slap this time, which was surprising, but a lazy kiss and a hand trailing scars on James’ back.

“I had problems remembering some basic codes, they were too easy and most of the times I tried to think too complicated. Nothing which would help someone who would see my tattoo and have enough time to decode it, but the first one I got, the red line, is full of basic codes every good hacker has to know.”

“The yellow one?”

“It was my third tattoo. The second one was the black one. I got it shortly after the red one, after I decided to use it as a creative form of notebook and make sure no one could find it out without looking for a long time.”

James raised his eyebrow, silent for a moment. “So you got all those tattoos for codes, and if you get kidnapped someone could hack into MI6 based on your codes?”

Q smirked against his skin. “Oh no, should someone try to get access to the MI6 severs with the purple line which I got shortly after being promoted to my current position, they would end up activating a trigger-system, destroying their own, and giving out their location to Mi6 and the agent the closest to their location.”

“That would of course only work would someone try to get access with the codes on your rib cage, mmh?”

“Why would someone want to kidnap me, James? Because I am the Quartermaster and am the most important person of value for the cyber part. If someone gets hold of me, then they would want me to hack into MI6 servers. Or they would see the codes and try on their own.”

James nodded. “The green line?”

“My name in codes. The letter Q in codes, and several other names of importance to me.”

He sat up, and James did too, watching as Q’s eyes ran over the green line, searching for something. He stopped somewhere right underneath his chest, pointing at a few numbers James couldn’t work with.

“There, your name. James.”

James smiled and leant forward, capturing Q’s lips in a kiss and dragging him down on the bed again. Q chuckled breathlessly, wrapping his legs around James’ waist.


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tracionn asked: "Got a prompt if I may! Q worshipping Bond's body, his strength and all, and if there would be much kissing involved it'd be fantastic. Thank you !!"

Another kiss, pressed on a scar on James’ chest, tongue flicking out lazily to lick over it and triggering a shiver to run through the muscular body underneath him.

He could feel James’ eyes on him, soft and in a bright, pleased blue, not his usual coldness or faked charm when he was out in the field. The elder’s hands rested on his side, one on Q’s hip, caressing his hipbone and soft skin, the other dangerously close to Q’s arse.

He leant down to trail the clear lines of healed cuts, most big and coming from ugly wounds, the feeling of wrinkled skin around the scar the only sign that there had been surgery involved and that James hadn’t healed them with sheer will-power.

Q shifted where he sat, straddling James’ lap, keeping him firmly in place and from doing anything like trying to turn Q on his back and change how they sat - he had tried before.

Mostly succeeded, but Q had let him.

He stopped as he felt another scar underneath his lips, dangerously close to James’ heart, stabbing wound, knife or maybe even speer, one could never know with an agent like the one Q fell for.

He flicked his tongue out again, circling the scar and the muscles, the soft skin around the scar. He could feel James’ heartbeat increase its pace, the gentle thumping underneath layers of skin, flesh, bones and muscles, right to where his heart lay.

It was a very satisfying feeling to know that he could trigger reactions which were not only genuine, but uncontrolled.

“I still cannot see the appeal in scars, my dear Q.”

Q ignored him, for the sake of wrapping his mouth around James’ nipple and sucking softly, hands keeping on exploring, memorising, worshipping.

Underneath his fingertips, he could feel James’ chest rise and fall, quicker than before, and he could feel his breath on his head as James leant over to kiss Q’s head, inhaling his scent loudly.

Q stopped, ignoring how James grunted in annoyance, and moved up to his jaw, trying to kiss each stubble he could find, pressing his lips on a wound his lover only got recently, a cut across the forehead, softly and soundly.

“Are you planning on driving me mad?”, James breathed out, squirming until his half-hard cock pressed against Q’s thight.

Q hummed, mumbling a maybe as he moved down, straddling James’ legs instead.

He let his tongue trail several old cut wounds, hearing a silent moan from his lover, feeling the muscles underneath his tongue, tasting sweat and skin and James. He stopped at the elder’s stomach, admirering muscles he would never have, moving in the rhythm of James’ breathing.

He kissed each line, each scar he could find, trying to invent a story how James got them and not use the knowledge he had from files, reports and the agent himself.

It was like an art work, James’ whole body pure art, and he wanted to cherish it, every inch of skin and each scar, and if it would take him ages and years.

A hand tangled itself into Q’s hair and tugged softly, James trying to pull Q up but the Quartermaster didn’t let him.

He wandered down further, kissing his hipbones, licking over the skin on James’ inner thights, ignoring his throbbing and aching cock purposely and earning a frustrated huff from the other.

Q kissed the skin of James’ legs, moving off him completely to go down further and further, only stopping at James’ ankles to look at him in total.

James was all muscles and tanned skin, smooth underneath Q’s fingers and lips, rough on his hands from years in the field, years holding and using guns, fighting and crawling up buildings or holding himself on the edge of a cliff.

He was all scars, beautiful in their own way, some pale, white lines, others still visible, almost fresh in comparison.

His blue eyes were watching Q almost patiently, and his cock lay erect against his stomach, red and swollen and waiting.

“Q”, James said with a light smile, raising his eyebrow, “Still with us?”

Q said nothing, only leant down, finally wrapping his lips around James’ cock, beginning to suck while the muscles underneath him came undone, and a moan filled the silence of the room.


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Can you do an expansion on the de-aged Q fic that you did earlier? Like, maybe what happens in the aftermath?" (chapter 47)

It took the minions at Q-branch about two weeks before they found a cure to the poison they had made Q drink, and all of them had to promise never to do something as stupid again.

They would, of course, they always did something stupid, it only was a matter of time.

James saw toddler-Q as Eve carried him inside, and saw the usual Q get out, wrapped in a long coat and without his glasses on.

Without thinking about it, James reached out and wiped a few wisps of hair out of Q’s face, ignoring how the younger man froze underneath his touch, and took out a pair of glasses he carried with him, handing it to the other.

“So you really took care of me all the time?”, Q asked after a moment of silence, both men staring at each other, none of them having wanted to start this conversation but they have had to.

James knew that he had feelings for his Quartermaster, feeling of the kind he wanted to smash and shoot at until they were gone, but he couldn’t and had accepted this. But he didn’t know how Q felt, or if he felt anything at all, this whole situation too confusing and carrying a sour taste with it.

The best would be to turn around and run, but running has never brought him far, and he felt that it was about to accept it.

He, James Bond, had fallen in love with his Quartermaster, and there was no use in denying it.

“Well, no one else wanted to have you destroy their houses, so I volunteered”, he said with the charming smile of his, “So yes, I did. M didn’t want me in the office and someone had to do it.”

The faint blush on Q’s cheeks made James’ heart skip a beat, and a chanting of ‘Mine’ sing inside his head, getting louder and more convinced with each second James looked at Q, seeing how the blush spread out to his ears, the tips already pink.

“I’m sorry, double-oh-seven, I’m sure it was torture.”

James made a gesture with his hand and followed Q as he walked towards the changing rooms, probably in hope to get something besides the coat to cover himself.

Some agents were staring, but James silenced them and their thoughts with a cold glare.

“It wasn’t that bad. You were an adorable child.” James stopped Q as he was about to open the door, covering the younger man’s hand with his own and pulling him close.

Q made a noise of surprise, hands founding themselves pressed against James’ chest. He looked up, frowning, but James was already leaning down.

“Not as adorable as you are now, of course, but I’d rather have you naked like this in my bed than here in MI6.”

Q rolled his eyes, but didn’t pull away as James pressed his lips on Q’s, nor as he dragged him along to the parking lot, straight towards James’ car.


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "are you still taking 00Q prompts? If not don't worry but I love your writing so much and was wondering if you'd write something about Q having anorexia/ bulimia or cuts, he collapses and Bond (they've been dating for two weeks in secret) finds him. (I read one ages ago and loved the theme) Please?"

James Bond did not worry about another person, he did not worry about someone collapsing into his arms after they agreed to go to lunch together later.

And he didn’t worry about how thin Q was, because he always had been, after his own explanation, and he didn’t worry about why he always wore long-sleeved shirts, even when it was hot and everyone else close to break out in sweat.

He didn’t worry, no.

He was close to a panic attack, that was something else and different.

They haven’t been dating for long, James wouldn’t even dare to say that they were in a relationship or about to go into one.

They had have their first kiss already, after their third date, but nothing more. No invitations up to Q’s flat whenever James accompanied him on his way home, whenever it was dark outside and he didn’t want to risk his Quartermaster’s safety by letting him walk alone.

No one knew abobut them. It wasn’t forbidden to have a relationship with someone who was working at MI6 too, but it was frowned upon. A relationship between the Quartermaster and an agent?

Favourism. And Q didn’t do favourism (he did).

James didn’t care and neither did Q, but they weren’t in a relationship and therefore they had nothing to tell their co-workers and Q’s minions.

Whenever they were in Q’s office, they kept an appropriate distance between each other. They didn’t kiss like James sometimes wanted to, nor did they use Q’s desk in a different way than working on it.

Keeping something like that hidden was a new experience for James, who hadn’t done dating before Q, their first date a spontaneous action and question from James after he had spent three hours watching Q work without eating.

Actually, Q never ate much, not even when James dragged him along to dinner with the knowledge that the Quartermaster hadn’t eaten anything all day.

Did he collaps into James’ arms because he hadn’t eaten?

He just had been about to leave and go to Eve to tease her until lunch break, but the sound of something being pushed down on the ground caught his attention. He had turned around, only to see Q’s eyes roll back into his head and his legs give in, and had been on his side as quick as possible.

“Q?”

No reaction, only a painful moan coming out of the Quartermaster’s mouth, his arms falling to the young man’s side and his sleeves moving up because of the movement.

Q didn’t react, no matter how hard James shook him, and not even the soft slaps on his cheeks woke him up.

“Q? Wake up, Q…”

His glance fell on the bony wrist exposed by the sleeve, and frowned. There were cuts, several precise and thin lines all over the skin, red, some white and pale, others fresh.

And James understood, why Q always was so pale, why he sometimes swayed on his feet, and why he never showed his skin.

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead on Q’s and ignoring how some minions ran inside, shocked by the sight.

“Q, why”, James asked quietly, stroking Q’s wrist with his thumb.


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> speaksarcastically asked: "Still taking prompts? Well, let's say that Q can't have a marker in his hand because he starts to draw Chemistry Elements -like the periodic table- and binary codes. He draws something in James. Thank you!"

Q still remembered very well how long it had taken for the waterproof ink of the marker to be washed off his skin, and how amused James has been by the redness of Q’s skin afterwards.

Revenge was a concept Q considered as dumb and for someone with less intellect than a stone, but right now it was sweet, a wonderful feeling in his brain and chest.

It was time for his revenge, and he already had the marker in his hands, now only had to wait for James to fall asleep or get sleepy enough to not notice it immediately and stop Q.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The last mission had been exhausting, and James hasn’t slept in three days. That added to the amount of sex they have had since James’ return to Britain this morning, it was no wonder James fell asleep the moment he had put the washcloth away and had wrapped an arm around Q’s frame.

Like usually, James slept on his back, straight and unmoving, and like usually Q’s head rested on his chest, and a leg thrown over James’.

It almost was too easy, but one mistake and he would find himself pinned on the bed with a gun on his temple, and he didn’t want to live through a day with a guilty James again.

So carefully, he untangled himself from James to sit next to him, looking at the agent’s peaceful expression. He looked different while he slept, Q had long ago noticed it, he looked less haunted, less tense and younger, the wrinkles of worry and the weight on his shoulders disappearing.

It was almost cute, but Q had a mission and shouldn’t let himself be distracted.

He took the cap off the marker and began to draw on James’ chest, some easy codes, the formula for decane and its isomers, several chemical substances, drew the building plan for a gun and for James’ radio, more codes, a laptop, and a tiny heart on the left side of his chest just because.

A few times it almost looked like James was about to wake up, but Q stopped the moment he stirred, waited until James was still again before he kept on.

He only stopped at James’ knees, had even drawn an arrow pointing at his lover’s crotch with the words ‘Q’s property’ above the other end of the arrow, and some other things which had crossed his mind.

He drew a mustache underneath James’ nose above his lips, smiling to himself as he did.

Once Q finished it, he put the marker away, cuddled back into James’ embrace and closed his eyes, falling asleep with a smirk on his features.

xx

Q woke up to someone tickling his side, eyes snapping open while he tried to breathe, but the fingers wouldn’t stop and he had to roll off the bed to escape.

“You’re like a child”, Bond greeted him, pointing at his chest with an unamused expression, “Really?”

“You started it.”

Hearing the pop of a cap taken off the marker, Q began to run, their laughing filling the flat.


	59. Chapter 59

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dammitcaswecanfixthis asked: "Q takes James home to meet his parents, but they aren't exactly accepting."

“Have you seen my tie?”

“Over your shoulder, Q.” Q blinked, reaching out and taking the red fabric into his hands, lips formed in an ‘Oh’. “Why are you worrying so much, it’s only a dinner with your parents.”

Q ignored his question for maybe three minutes in which he hurried through the flat in the search for a comb, then for his shoes, his jacket, the suspenders… As he walked past James, the elder gripped his arm, keeping him still for a moment.

He had never seen his partner this worried, and didn’t know whether to be worried too or wonder why he was acting like this was the end of the world. He couldn’t imagine what the reason for his partner’s panic was, not at all.

“That’s exactly the problem, it’s a dinner with my parents.”

James sighed, wrapping his arms around Q’s waist and keeping him close. “What could go wrong? It’s not like they will throw you out or disown you. They do know that you will take your partner with you?”

Q nodded. “They want to meet you.”

“And they do know that I’m a man?”

Q was silent, his shoulders tensing and a shudder running through his body. James paused, blinking once or twice.

Oh.

That of course was a problem.

“They don’t know, do they?”

Q nodded, lowering his head and closing his eyes. “My father is traditional. He… I assume that he will disown me for being a fairy.”

A fairy? James had never heard of this word before, but the way Q said it, James figured it was anything but nice. He gave Q’s frame a squeeze, then let go of him, allowing Q to search for his jacket again.

“It’s going to be alright, Q.”

James heard dry laughing, and a mumbled ‘It’s not’.

xx

It’s not.

Q’s parents lived in an old, but tiny house outside of London, the stairs creaking underneath their feet as they approached the entrance door. Q had been oddly silent the whole time, not saying anything but the address James had to drive to.

He hesitated as he knocked, but eventually did, and an elderly lady opened the door, her smile dying on her features as soon as she saw James’ arm around Q’s waist.

“Hello Benjamin”, she said, but it sounded forced and James could feel how both of them were tense.

James understood Q’s fear and wanted to drag him away before something could happen, but he didn’t, and so he just stood there, watching the disgust wash over the lady’s features, nothing to hide or conceal it.

“Hello mother. This is James, my partner.”

James only nodded, not seeing why he should be polite to someone who kept the door half-closed, as if to close it the moment her son should dare getting closer.

“You didn’t tell us you’d bring a gentleman along, dear.”

Q wet his lips, nodding. “You wanted to meet my partner, and here he is.”

“Is Benjamin here?”, a male voice came from the inside of the house - Q’s father, judging from the way he went paler than usually, like he had seen a ghost.

“No dear, his boyfriend James just called”, Benjamin’s mother said, her glance hard on Q’s face as she turned her head, “He is sick.”

With that, she closed the door, and Q’s whole posture sunk, tears shining in his eyes.

James carefully pulled him down the stairs back to their car, silent the whole time and holding Q’s hand as he tried to fight off the tears, but failed.

Both knew what she had meant with sick, and both knew that it hurt Q, no matter what he said later.


	60. Chapter 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loveless801 asked: "Alright, so both Bond and Q is kidnapped. The captors seem to know that they have a thing going on thus they started to torture Q in front of Bond."

It must have happened one day, but James had hoped that it would happen in a few years, when their relationship would be stronger, and much stronger, more likely to survive this.

But as the blindfold was taken off James’ eyes, and he saw Q sitting there opposite to him, he knew that there was no way he could prevent it from happening.

Everyone at MI6 knew about their relationship. From M, to Eve, over the other double-oh agents down to Q’s minions, who were the first to witness it.

Everyone knew that Q was James’, and if someone dared to disrespect him due to Q’s youth, he met James’ fist or made the acquaintanceship with his cold glare and a threat. Everyone knew that should they dare to flirt with Q he would destroy their lives by blocking their bank account, giving their computer a virus and giving faked information about a crime to the police.

It wasn’t the most convential relationship, but it worked well. It had for three months so far, and they had been about to move in together, but after this…

James doubted Q would want to live together with the man whose fault it was that he would be tortured.

And it was clear that this was the plan of those men, either torturing James or Q, more likely Q. He felt his blood run cold, and boil at the same time, a growl leaving his mouth.

He would make them pay, each one of them, and he would haunt them into their dreams to break each of their bones.

Q wasn’t awake yet, to his luck, a few more moments he could spend in the unconsciousness as innocent as his soul, and more time for James to try and find a way out.

He sqiurmed to test his ropes, but his hands were cuffed together with iron handcuffs, his torso tied against the backrest of the chair and his legs on each front leg of the chair. He could have tried to throw himself against the man with the tiger mask, standing next to him, but he assumed the chair was fixed on the ground, judging by the way it hardly moved as he shifted around on it.

“He’s awake”, a voice behind James said and he sighed, wondering who he had pissed off this time.

“Then let’s wake up our sleeping beauty over there.”

James growled again, testing his ropes, but they didn’t give in no matter how hard he tried. Someone laughed, and while they woke Q up by pouring cold water over his head, James tried to find a way out, to no avail.

“What…”, Q mumbled as he was forced to wake up, and his eyes fell on James immediately, confusion replaced by a blank expression as the young man realised what was going on.

“I’m sorry Q”, he mouthed as the first man, a man with a tiger mask, took spot in front of Q, not blocking James’ view completely.

Q only nodded and closet his eyes, the first punch in his stomach causing him to gasp in surprise.

Another punch, followed by a slap. James threw himself against his chair, tried to move, to do something, but someone pressed a gun on his temple and he stopped.

“I wouldn’t try anything stupid if I were you”, dragon whispered, “We wouldn’t want your toy boy to be killed, do we?”

James closed his eyes, not being able to stand seeing Q get hurt because of him.

And with each scream they drew from Q, James anger grew and grew, but so did his desperation, because he couldn’t do anything but sit and listen.


	61. Chapter 61

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> placeofold asked: "Hi! Love your stories, they are some of the best 00Q that I have read =) Can I request here? Q is out, and his drink is spiked, Cue Bond to the rescue and fluffy H/C. Does this sound ok? Thanks =)"

Q rarely went out to celebrate - no, let’s rephrase that, he rarely went out at all.

Most of his time, he was at MI6, worked, coded, invented new toys for the double-oh-agents and repaired those Bond had broken. The thought to go out and party until his mind would be fuzzy, dizzy and until he would wake up in his own vomit wasn’t as appealing as a nice, quiet evening at MI6.

But he had have no chance against his minions, all gathering up to talk him into going out.

You need a social life, Q, someone to return to and to talk to, someone you can care for and who cares for you.

Trust it that the minions read articles about how to set up their boss with someone in their freetime, instead of having a social life on their own.

He didn’t need one. He didn’t want one. He was fine being alone and miserable and ignore the second word, because he was happy.

He didn’t need someone to demand explanations about why he worked all day and night, about why he couldn’t talk about his job and why the heck he hacked into google instead of doing something normal as a hobby.

At least his wasn’t resurrection, he thought as he sat in a club, trying to blend out the ridiculously loud music for the sake of his sanity and head. People couldn’t even talk there, how was he supposed to find someone to spend his days with if he couldn’t have a conversation like a normal person?

This was ridiculous. Why did he allow them to talk him into this. He should get up and go, but surely they were checking the security cameras and he wouldn’t live to hear the end of it, would they see that he hadn’t tried.

Well, he would have, would there have been someone he considered as interesting.

It was a known fact that he was gay, after he had loudly declared it in his office, shortly after the third minion in one week had tried to flirt with him, so this was a bar for gay people, and the thought alone made him feel more uncomfortable.

He sighed into his drink, and drank another sip. Maybe he should get drunk, and hope that he would be able to deal with this that way.

After talking to a man who had turned out to be a woman, Q stood up and went to the toilets, returning maybe three minutes later. He downed his drink and looked around, the music slowly getting bearable and his mood less dark.

A man talked to him, flirted and Q tried his best to flirt back, getting hooked up in a conversation about music, books, general things Q usually never paid attention to.

It was ten minutes later that he started to feel sick, and that his vision got blurry.

He checked if he had his glasses on, they still were there, and then his glass, but it still was half-ful - the second one, light alcohol - so he couldn’t be drunk already, could he? He was light, didn’t weight much, was thin and bony and had a messed-up circulation, maybe he already was.

The man asked if he was alright, touching Q’s shoulder and he said that he was and should probably get home.

Later, he wouldn’t remember why or how, but the man offered his help and Q agreed. He got up and let the man lead him out, hand on the small of Q’s back, out in the darkness.

Everything was blurry and wrong, he swayed and felt weak on his legs, the man dragging him along quickly like he was in a hurry.

But suddenly he stopped, and a weird voice, deep like a growl, said something, but Q didn’t know what. He only noticed that he was left alone as the man ran, like he was afraid of something.

Q?

Q?

He opened his eyes, seeing someone blurry standing there, his vision dancing, turning and swirling. He wondered who it was, couldn’t recognise the voice nor the frame, only knew it was someone familiar and big…

“Q? Look at me, Q?”

“James”, Q eventually blurred out, before everything turned black and he passed out, collapsing into Bond’s arms.

Later, he woke up with a terrible headache, and the vow that he would never go out again.


	62. Chapter 62

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Oh my goodness you are a beautiful writer! I absolutely love your fics. (: So If you're not too busy I have a prompt. (If you are, don't worry about it at all)- Say that a mission goes wrong and everyone thinks Bond is dead and Q breaks and is about to/in the process of kill(ing) himself when Bond walks in their flat. Bonus points if it's very angsty."

James Bond had died at the fourth of August, his body not found.

James Bond had been K.I.A. and went M.I.A; no one knew where he was, but everyone knew what had happened. James Bond was dead, a shot right through his head, Q’s cameras caught it all.

They had have him tied on a chair, with a black bag over his head, but it had been his voice, and it had been his eyes staring at the men before the bag was placed on his head again, and it had been his body falling on the ground after the shot before the cameras had been turned off.

James Bond had died the fourth of August, and so had Q’s soul.

He didn’t know what had kept him working, living. He didn’t know how he managed to stand up and leave the flat - their flat - without loosing it, without just breaking down, crying and screaming and it wasn’t fair.

It just wasn’t fair, not at all.

Q hadn’t cried, not after the red dot had disappeared, not after seeing the video recordings, not after the funeral when they had lowered an empty coffin into a grave with James’ name written on the stone, no loving words, nothing, only his name.

He hadn’t cried, nor screamed, he just was a shell of his own self and he couldn’t bear the thought anymore.

He stood up every morning, drank no tea and just worked, worked and worked, not leaving the HQ for days and sometimes a week before he would be forced to go home, into a flat where everything reminded him of James. It smelled like him, it was full of his aura, his stuff laying around, the clothes he had thrown on the ground as he had taken Q to bed last time, a few weeks ago.

Q knew that he couldn’t bear it much longer, so a month later, at the fourth of September, he cut open his wrists, laying in the tub.

It was a precise, easy cut, not hurting like he had imagined it would. He cut open his whole arm, blood immediately pouring and his vision turning blurry from the tears shooting into his eyes, a sob breaking free and making his whole body shake in sadness and pain he had suppressed for so long.

He didn’t notice how someone opened the door with a key, nor how someone called out for him, nor how the door was kicked open and a person on his side, shaking him while taking the knife out off his hands - James’ favourite, big, strong and deadly.

“Q? Q talk to me, Q, please, Q!”

James shook the unmoving body, blood soaking his trousers and his shirt as he wrapped his arms around Q, lifting him up.

“Shit, Q? Q?!”

Q’s eyes fluttered, about to fall close, colour draining from his already pale features.

“Q?! Q!”


	63. Chapter 63

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hello! If you want, could you please write something with Bond realising suddently that Q loves him back, like - not that he didn't know, but the full extension of it never quite arrived to him before? ((sorry for my poor english!))"

They have been living together for five month when the realisation suddenly hit Bond.

He didn’t even know what had triggered it, he had been laying on the couch, sprawled out lazily with Q in front of him as the tiny spoon, reading something on his tablet, body curled up against James’ with his back pressed against the elder’s back, when the realisation hit him.

Later, he would realise how stupid he had been all those months, but right now it felt like he had found the cure for something important, had realised something so mighty and secret that everything else didn’t matter.

The question had fallen before: Do you love me?

The first time as Q had been angry at Bond for suggesting that they shouldn’t date anymore, that it was too risky, and that once people would find out that they would use Q to get to Bond, and he didn’t want the younger man to get hurt just because of him.

He had seen so many people die, had been the reason for too many deaths, he wouldn’t be able to stand the death of the first person after Vesper he had fallen for.

Q had been, actually, quite calm about the situation, and had only slapped Bond once.

“Do you love me?”, he had asked, and James had surprised himself by answering ‘Yes’ quicker than he would have pulled a trigger, “Then why do you want to hurt me?”

James had let the subject, and Q’s clothes, drop, but the question came back, like a haunting nightmare to eat on James’ confidence and certainness.

“Do you love me?”, Q once again had asked, a month after they had started this whole relationship-thing, after James had fucked him against the kitchen counter, angry and roughly after a martini too much and too much pent-up energy from the mission.

The bruises had been on Q’s body even weeks later, angry bruises, marks, bite and finger ones, and James still felt guilty.

James had grunted out a ‘Yes’, thrusting into Q’s willing body, too drunken to care about how much he hurt him.

Drunken people and children never lied, and that was when Q had asked for the last time.

But not once had James dared to ask him, because he was afraid of what Q might answer. Did the Quartermaster love him? How could someone fall for James Bond, the broken, alcoholic suicidal agent without a heart?

He had always feared that Q might not love him, but right now, laying there behind him knowing that Q would be working right now, he knew that he must. Because he would spent his whole day laying around with James instead of doing the work he loved, just to keep him company.

“Do you love me?”, James asked against Q’s nape, pressing a soft kiss on it, and trying to ignore how his heart beat faster in fear.

“Yes”, Q answered, without any hesitation, and James smiled.


	64. Chapter 64

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Dark Materials AU where everyone has a daemon. Pretty please?"

“Has someone ever touched your daemon?”, Q asked after a few minutes of silence, in which both of them had have to catch their breath.

James looked up from where they lay on the bed, over to their daemons, Tyada cracking a lazy eye open and waggling with her tail lazily.

Eulae lay on top of her, the tiny, black cat curled up on the wolf’s back, sleeping or maybe just resting, James couldn’t tell. Her tail was waggling too, and the purring vibrating through her slender frame showing that she was content.

Q’s hair tickled James underneath his chin, the younger boy shifting and resting a hand on James’ chest, caressing the skin there with his thumb.

“Several times. Some people consider it as torture and some have tried seperating us.”

“People would willingly hurt a daemon just to hurt the human it belongs to?”

James only hummed and Q was silent once again, long enough for James to wonder if he had fallen asleep, but the young man’s eyes fell on James as he sat up.

His hair was sticking out in weird angles, most of it covering his eyes and giving him an incredibly cute look, one James wanted to kiss and take whole and break apart.

“Does it hurt?”

“What?”

Q huffed, wiping a few wisps of hair out of his own face, James’ fingers twitching in the urge to do it for him. “Your daemon being touched.”

“Yes. It hurts and just feels wrong, but you have to get used to it.” He frowned. “Why do you ask?”

Q bit into his lower lip, chewing on it until it was red and swollen and lovely. James gave in into his primeval urge and leant over, pressing his lips on Q’s shortly. He smiled, before leaning back again.

“Because… there are scientific studies showing that if two persons are in love, the contact of a daemon with the other person doesn’t hurt and is supposed to be pleasant.”

With more grace than a feline should have, Eulae jumped off the wolves back and walked over to the bed, climbing on top of the bed and duvets. He rubbed her side against Q’s leg, before jumping on his lap, curling up there comfortably. Her yellow, sharp eyes lay on James, just like Q’s did.

James blinked, then frowned, then narrowed his eyebrows. “You want me to touch your daemon to see if some idiot’s research is right?”

“Yes. Now do it, before I get up and force myself on your wolf.”

Tyada bared her teeth at Q, snarling, but made no attempt to move. Lazy wolf, James thought, seeing how his soul glared at him with an angry waggle of her tail.

Carefully, James reached out to the cat’s head, fingers stopping an inch away from the black, soft fur. Only after Q nodded, tense in anticipation, he dared to touch the animal, awaiting a cry of pain or a scream.

He did, however, not expect Q to gasp, eyes wide and tension leaking out of his body, like air being punched out of someone’s lungs.

“Q?”, James asked, stopping to touch Eulae in fear he had hurt his Quartermaster seriously. “Q? Are you alright?”

After a few moments, Q nodded, standing up. Eulae ended up sitting in James’ lap, no reaction from Q, and so he started petting her, while curiously watching as Q approached the wolf.

He got on his knees in front of her, reaching out to pet her behind the ears. James tensed, preparing himself for pain which never came.

A shiver ran through his body, a shudder, warm and pleasant and feeling like home. He blinked, seeing Q’s satisfied smile. “It works!”

Eulae rolled her eyes, meowing in bliss as James scratched behind her ear just in the perfect way. “Obviously.”


	65. Chapter 65

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Ohmy ohmy, I loved the Q's parents one! Can we get a continuation? Maybe where Q tries to talk to his parents again, but they also throw in that James must be at least 10 yr older than Q?"

“He is… how old? Fourty, fourty-five? You can’t be serious, Benjamin.”

Q sighed, considering to throw the phone away and never take it again. He didn’t know why he was even bothering, why he tried to make something work when he knew it was doomed to failure.

Maybe there still was a part of him being the naive, little boy hiding behind his mother’s legs when someone tried to talk to him, maybe he really still had spots and should stop trying to pretend he was above the approval of his parents when they clearly didn’t want him to be happy.

Maybe he should stop, give up and leave. But maybe it was about time he told them to ‘Fuck off’, and maybe now was this time.

“He’s more than ten years older than you are, Benjamin, why don’t you just go and find a nice woman of your age? Someone who won’t die before you do, and who could give you a child or two?”

He sighed into the phone, looking over to where James sat at the table, drinking his coffee shirtless and with a gun in his hand which he was cleaning, newspaper laying in front of him. Should he move out of the room and have this conversation without his lover being there?

No, he might as well hear it.

“Mother, I am twenty-five years old, it is my decision who I choose to spend my life with.” She huffed, and he rolled his eyes, squirming until he lay on his back and was staring up at the ceiling. “And there won’t be a lady. I am gay, you should accept that.”

“I - accept the fact that you are-“

She didn’t finish her sentence, but he knew what she meant. A faggot, an abomination, a freak, a disgrace, no longer my son, he waited to hear it, but she never finished it.

Instead, she sighed again, probably rubbing her forehead like she always did when Q was being insufferable and stubborn. Father probably was out, or else she wouldn’t have this conversation with him now, not wanting to risk father’s blood pressure with something as childish as this.

Q felt like he was being scolded for refusing to eat for a week, only that this was important, and this was his life, he was grown-up and not a blasted child.

“Benjamin, please, you must understand that this is just a phase you are going through. Your feelings for this man are nothing but a silly mancrush, dear, you-“

Enough was enough. Q jumped on his feet, ignored how James was about to release the safety of his gun in alarm, and began pacing around, free hand clutched into a fist.

“No, you must understand that it’s not a phase, that I have been gay since I have been fifteen and that it won’t change. I am in love with James, and I want to spend my life with him, I don’t need your approval nor do I want it. You either accept it or fuck off.”

“I won’t stand this intonation, young man, don’t you dare-“

Q hung up, letting the phone fall to the ground. He heard James move, and felt his arms around Q’s waist, free hand moving up to push his hair up and away from the nape where the elder pressed a kiss on the skin.

“Are you alright?”

“Be glad you never had to explain your parents that they won’t get their precious grandchildren.”

James chuckled, grip around Q getting tighter. “I can kill them for you, if you want to. Being an orphan has its benefits.”

Q turned around in his arms with a smile, tiptoing to kiss James’ cheek, trailing down to his lips. “No, you can’t imagine how much paperwork that would mean. Too tedious. Don’t bother.”


	66. Chapter 66

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gingilocks101 asked: "Hi! I'm Sunshine (the weirdo that fangirled ridiculously over Q being the emperor in drabble 49), and I was just wondering if I could get Q throwing bread on the minions this time? Bread and circuses! :)"

Lately, there was a sudden wave of… disrespect going through Q-branch like a disease or wave of flu. The soft murmuring of people wondering if Q was capable of taken care of the next mission or not.

Their biggest one since Skyfall, probably. Someone had managed to take two of the double-ohs captive and with them a new piece of equipment, the newest baby of Q-branch.

Work has been quite bothersome for everyone, and a lot of work involved. No time to go outside, sleep or do something as stupid as taking a break.

Q hadn’t seen the inside of his flat since a week, wore the same cardigan he had ordered from Bond - who, of course, thought this was funny and went home every evening just to tease Q - two days ago and didn’t know if there was blood in his veins or tea anymore, it was hard to tell when all he wanted to do was sleep and make everyone shut up.

Now the scent of revolution laying in the air, and he felt like it was time to show his power and control, or else he would find himself being pushed off his throne for the sake of going home. He allowed his minions a lot, but going against their beloved emperor and overlord?

There were things he accepted and allowed, but this certainly wasn’t one of those things.

So the next day, as he overheard Fred talking to Alexander about how they should force Q to go home and sleep, and how someone else should monitor the mission as long as he wasn’t in his full power, he brought a bag with him, not telling anyone who it was and why he had left the office.

Bond had brought him some bred, curious and confused, and Q had promised him to show him the recordings later.

He took place on his throne, working like everyone else to not make anyone suspicious, before he took a piece of bred and threw it on Fred’s head. The surprised yowl was the only noise heard, everyone else silent and shocked, the bred falling down on the ground and laying there forgotten.

Q turned to his desk again and continued to work as if nothing had happened, the usual typing and chatting from behind gone and replaced by silence. Half an hour later, he turned around again and threw the next piece, hitting Alexander’s forehead and making him stumble backwards.

“Have you lost your mind?”, someone asked, hiding behind a group of three minions as Q glared at them, standing on top of his desk with more bread in his hands.

“We have missed the most important part of our games so far, my dear minions”, he declared loudly, holding the bread up, “Panem et circenses! Bread and circuses!”

With that, he threw the bred on his minions, some laughing, others dodging and trying not to be hit. It was chaos, bred flying, crumbs all over the desks and ground, and everyone was behaving like a bunch of drunk adolescents and not like adults working for the Secret Service.

Later, when Q had no bread left, they decided to let two minions fight, the looser cursed with the burden of cleaning up later.


	67. Chapter 67

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "OH GOD CONTINUE THAT TORTURE PROMPT" (chapter 60)
> 
> _and_
> 
> Anonymous asked: "Can you do an expansion of the kidnapping fill please? Like what happens once they’re rescued and returned home?"

As Q’s screams had already gone hoarse and the only noises coming from him were sobs, James felt like something inside him had died.

That this was all his fault, and no one elses, and that - would Q and he not be together - he would be save without James. But then, maybe they didn’t know that they were together, or they would have gone for Q anyway because he was weaker, more fragile and easier to be brought into this state.

It was hard to blame himself when he knew that it would have happened anyway, and that it wasn’t his fault, but he still tried.

He didn’t know what they had done to Q this time, but the sound of coughing and someone throwing up, the sound of liquid spilling and dripping on the ground in a wave indicated that James didn’t want to know it.

He had closed his eyes, not being able to stand seeing Q in this much pain, seeing tears and blood run over his cheeks and spilling his clothes, each sound as relieving as horrifying, because it meant that Q was alive, but for how long?

James shook his head and once again tried to get rid of his chains, his skin shred and red and it burnt, but he tried anyway.

“Are you going to tell us what we want to know, Bond, or are you going to sit there and listen while we kill your lover?”

The sound of flesh being burnt, a stinging and biting scent rising into James’ nose and making his stomach cramp in disgust, Q’s scream so loud that he must have been heard through the whole house and maybe even outside. James wasn’t foolish enough to believe that someone out there would come and rescue them, but by now MI6 must have used the tracking chips in Q’s and his own body to find them, by now help should be on their way.

“Tell me, Bond, how is it to know that you are the reason your boyfriend is going to die and that it’s your fault? Tell me, Bond, does it hurt? Do you want to be on his place? Should we kill him and then move on to you? Tell me, Bond.”

James stayed silent, knowing that his words would only make it worse.

Another scream, followed by the sound of bones breaking. Q tried to suppress it, fight it off, but the sobs and screams coming out of his mouth were stronger than any of his resistance was. James had no idea what they wanted from him, why they were doing this, but it was enough to try and remember their voices so he could hunt them down and kill them.

“Have you lost your voice, Bond, I asked you a questio-“

Something exploded, people screamed, and James opened his eyes, throwing the chair and himself against the closest kidnapper, a cracking noise as he located his wrist into its position again, fingers burning but he couldn’t care.

He broke free, getting rid of the ropes, stabbing the tiger with one of the chair legs through his throat, knife cold and familiar in his hands.

Q had passed out, his slender frame bloody and broken in the chair, only held up by the ropes tying him against the chair. James hurried over to him, knocking out the dragon and and lifting Q up to his arms, running out with a special force team passing him.

xx

Q woke up seven days after they have been brought back to England, eyes half-closed and only breathing because of an oxygen mask on his mouth and several tubes connecting him to several machines.

He opened his mouth to speak, turning his head towards James, but he silenced him with a smile. “Q.”


	68. Chapter 68

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blacknwhitecow asked: "You are the queen of prompts my dear. Or shall I say the queen of filling out prompts. I just love your fics so I figured instead of just reading this time I would try my hand at giving you a prompt. James and Q have been I a relationship for some time. James realizes that he wants to marry Q. Can I please have James freaking out since he hardly ever freaks out."
> 
> _Also for an anon asking for a proposal, but I seemed to have lost the ask..._

It was in the middle in the night as James woke up, eyes falling on Q’s sleeping form, as one single thought rushed through his mind and broke every inch of worked concentration and control within seconds: I want to marry him.

It were five words sending his world into the field, returning in shards, broken bones, pieces, the sound of something breaking echoing in James’ head as he got out of the bed and left the room.

This couldn’t be happening, could it? This was a sick dream.

He couldn’t want to marry Q, it was impossible and wrong and no. That couldn’t be happening.

Marriage held far too many dangers, not to mention that it would turn Q into a walking target with a wedding band as the tracking device. No, no, no, no, no, no. James had seen too many of his beloved ones go, had survived the death of his parents, Vesper, M, every woman he had ever slept with and enough to make a man think he was cursed.

Everything he touched died, and getting into this relationship had been a risk already, one he hadn’t wanted to take. He knew it was a stupid thought, and that Q was fully capable of taking care of himself, but the thought of being the reason for his lover’s death or any kind of injury send James over the edge of calmness and turned him into a worrying wreck.

He had been close to leave Q for his sake more than five times already, had have his suitcase packed thrice and had opened his mouth to tell Q that it couldn’t work and that they would be better off not being together, and that he was sorry but there was no use in risking Q’s life for someone as old and broken as Bond.

But he had never gone. He had put his suitcase away again, the clothes in it back into the closet and his other belongings too, knowing that Q had been watching him instead of sleeping, but none of them mentioned it.

He had closed his mouth again after looking into Q’s eyes, so much worry, intelligence and fear in a young man’s eyes, and it had been too much.

But realising that he wanted to marry the man he loved, mark him as his in every file, every document and visibly?

It was a thought which freaked James out, which made him want to run and never turn back until he was somewhere in France or maybe even Africa, hiding from his own emotions like he was used to.

He wanted to marry Q. He wanted him to become Mr Bond, he wanted to see him wearing a wedding band and wanted to wake up with his husband in his arms, cold metal on hot skin, and wanted to spend his life, as long or short it might be, in the knowledge that everyone knew Q was his.

He ripped a tile out of the bathroom’s ground, taking out a box and opening it. Some old pictures Q had made him keep, M’s dog, and some files covered what he was looking for, and as he held it in his hands he closed his fingers around it, taking a deep breath.

The metal of his mother’s wedding ring lay heavy in his palm, cold and dead like her corpse, but sparkling in the promise of something new, something… unique and ordinary.

“James? Are you alright?”, Q’s voice asked quietly from the doorframe which he was leaning against, glasses missing and hair falling into his face, and maybe it was stupid and he could have done it better, but James turned around and stayed on the ground, only getting on his knees.

He opened his hand, letting Q see the ring, seeing how the younger man’s eyes widened and how he swallowed dryly. “Do you want to marry me, Benjamin, do you want to be my husband until the day we die?”

He expected a no, expected to be laughed at or hear how stupid it was and how dangerous it would be for both to be married, but none of that left Q’s mouth. Instead, he lifted his hand to his mouth, trying to mute a sob and a smile, eyes filling with tears.

James’ expression fell, and worry rushed through him like a storm.

“Yes”, Q breathed out, tears running over his cheeks, “Yes, I want to, yes. Yes, you idiot, yes.”

Before he had any time to regret what he had done or start worrying about the reason why Q was crying, James crossed the distance between them and pressed his lips on Q’s, pressing him against the nearest wall.

The ring fit perfectly, and somewhere inside him James felt like his mother would have aprooved, and so would M have.


	69. Chapter 69

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007-reporting asked: "[damnit your writing. is just fantastic!] //I would like to request that Q has been injured and in hospital with no chance of recovery. No one can tell Bond. He finds out on his own and he is not happy"

The doctors stopped talking the moment they saw James approaching, damned their blasted promise to not talk about a patient’s condition to someone who wasn’t family or in any way related to the patient.

James knew that in one file, he was listed as Q’s emergency contact, but it wasn’t the one he was here with, and not the identity married to James’ alias. There wasn’t much he could do, but there was much he was willing to do.

He had been here with Q for a week so far.

The younger man was in hospital, heavily injured from a mission which had required him to go out into the field. There was close to no part of Q’s body uninjured, James had overheard a few nurses say, and he hadn’t woken up since they had found him in Florida, laying in a corner with blood all over his body, and the thought alone made James angry again.

He had tried to stay calm, controlled, he had tried to respect M’s order to not do anything stupid, but it was Q they were talking about.

His Q.

And he would be damned if he couldn’t find out what was going on, and why no one seemed to dare looking him into the eyes anymore.

Gripping the doctor’s arm, James forced him away from his colleagues, ignoring the cries of protest and threats of calling the police in order to get the doctor around a corner.

James pressed him against a wall, hand around his throat and faces an inch or two apart, the barrel of James’ gun just visible behind his jacket, but visible enough for the doctor to see it.

“If you don’t tell me what is wrong with my partner, then we both shall see if a shot in the head can be cured, shaun’t we?”, he hissed, pushing the other man against the wall again, his head hitting it and making a thump, the only noise around them, “What. is. going. on. Tell me!”

He lifted the gun, pressing it against the doctor’s temple and bathing in the fear inside his eyes, tears and everything was just pathetic.

“He… he won’t recover, the-the inj-juries a-are too heavy and t-too many, he-he… w-we… we suspect he won’t wake up from coma and a-are about to contact his family to let them decide about the machines…”

James let go, numb, turning around before the doctor could even hit the ground.

He walked away, not knowing where, not caring, he just had to go away. There was a ringing in his ears, the yells and cries from nurses he pushed out of the way like he was underwater, or this all was a dream.

He found his way outside to the garden, everything bright and friendly, with flowers and children and he wanted to cry out and destroy everything. But there was no energy left in him, not even enough to keep him on his feet.

James fell on his knees, tears breaking free and running over his cheeks, while he peeled off the ring on his finger, wrapping his hands around it like it was his anchor.

xx

Two days later, they turned the machines off.


	70. Chapter 70

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lisacreature asked: "I don't know if your still taking prompts, but if you are I was wondering if you would consider one of my ideas. No pressure though. Okay so James and Q are "soul mates" which means that they have been together in other lifetimes in the past. I was thinkings that either Bond or Q start to have of their passed lives. You can choose the historical era if you want, but if you need any help with facts or settings then you can ask me :) (could there be a bit of smut?)"

_There was this boy amongst the ones they had saved, curled up on the ground with his hands cuffed together, soles of his feet burnt and full with ashes from the ones having been burnt here._

_He couldn’t be older than seventeen, maybe eighteen, so young and innocent, someone who should have never got here, who should have never witnessed the horror of such a place and time._

_They haven’t been able to rescue many men or women, nor children._

_The Germans have thrown most of the people into the ovens as soon as they had found out that the British, the Americans and the French were on their way to rescue the many children, the Konzentrationslager Natzweiler* nearly empty except for a few soldiers, and the few survivors they had found._

_Strangely, James could only focus on this boy laying there in the ashes of the other people, coughing and sobbing in pain and horror, the trauma slowly creeping through his bones, filling him and making his blood run cold._

_James could understand him. He felt pity, he felt his pain and he felt every single emotion running through the boy, wanted to take him into his arms and never let go. Shouldering his rifle, James took off his helmet and got closer, the boy looking up and his green, teary eyes meeting James’._

_It was like the universum stopped moving, everything stopping breathing, existing, being, and all that mattered was this boy, looking at James with the same realisation visible in his features rushing through James’ brain._

_He had found his soul mate…_

James opened his eyes, feeling Q’s body safely tucked underneath his arm, curls tickling James’ side and breath brushing his skin. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head.

It was useless to feel pity for a life long gone, for two people having lived shortly before James had been born, but he wondered how they had died, otherwise he wouldn’t be here, and neither would Q.

Had his previous life been killed in action, and Q’s lived alone until the year Q had been born?

He wanted to know more, but knew better than to try and find it out, he would see it in his dreams, when the time was ready.

James reached out and ran a hand through Q’s curls, pressing a kiss on his forehead before settling back to sleep, closing his eyes and embracing the memory like an old friend.


	71. Chapter 71

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007-reporting asked: "//prompt: After the Machines've turned off, a month later after losing his Quartermaster."

The stone was cold underneath his fingertips as James took off his glove, letting his fingers trail over the words he had read over and over again in the past month, nearly every day, in the morning and in the evening.

One month ago, Q had died, and with him a part of James' soul, if not his whole.

He felt empty, like a shell, drank more alcohol than he ever had and woke up in his own vomit and in his own tears, heart thumping painfully in his chest.

No one at MI6 dared to say something. M didn't give him any new missions and just let him mourn and grieve, the minions at Q-branch had stopped fearing him and had stopped looking at him in pity after he had thrown one into the big screen right behind Q's old desk.

The new Q was a man around James' age, with glasses and a lab coat, trying to ignore the hatred in James' eyes whenever he came down, just sitting there and staring at the place his lover had used to stand, talking to his minions or trying to ignore James.

It never had worked, he had always given in.

James' fingers twitched against the cold stone, burning pain making his hand tremble, and his lower lip was bloody from the amount of times he had bitten on it in agony and anger.

He could have saved Q. He could have found him earlier, he could have saved his life, but James had failed and that was how life punished him for being too late.

He could imagine Q's voice, posh and beautiful and soft, telling him that he didn't have to feel responsible, that it was nothing but the inevitability of time, and that nothing could be done to change what had happened.

James hoped that he was safe wherever he was, and happy. If it was heaven, or another life, James hoped that Q had found himself a happier place than this earth full of demons and monsters, where everything died and no one could be happy.

Wherever he was, he would follow him. There was no use in trying to pretend that he had something worth living for.

James took his gun out as he was at their flat, Q's stuff untouched, nothing moved, even the piles of clothes gone and everything just as clean as his lover would have loved it to be.

He sank down in the tub, surrounded by warm water, smelling like Q's cologne and shampoo, and put the barrel in his mouth.

It was a quick, painless death, only the beginning of the end.

Even phoenixes could die, if only from a broken heart.


	72. Chapter 72

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007-reporting asked: "//prompt: Instead of Q in the hospital, never going to recover; Its Bond"

“I knew that one day it would be this way”, Q mumbled, caressing James’ cheek with his thumb, wishing he would wake up and tell him to stop being so sentimental, but he wouldn’t, “I just hoped that… maybe… that we maybe would get some more time before…”

He stopped talking and wet his lips, tasting salt from the tears he had cried since the news had been given to him, the news that James Bond would never recover.

One bullet wound too much, one near-death experience to close to turn into a real one, and now, death wanted its price.

The time of resurrection and the famiiar Agent double-oh-seven reporting for duty was over, Q would never get to hear his partner’s voice again, never see those blue eyes sparkle with glee and an almost childish charm, would never again feel his hands on his skin, and he would never again return from a stressing day of work to find James on the couch, reading some classical novel in Russian or French.

He would never get to hear him say ‘Q’, he would never get to vow to love him forever and would never get to call himself Mister Bond like he had planned to from the next month on. He had already informed the agency that their wedding wouldn’t happen, and had informed his parents that they finally got what they wanted, that James was leaving him but not in the way they had wanted him to.

And for a moment, as he had heard his mother’s false words of sympathy and my poor baby he had allowed himself to believe that he would be able to survive this.

But now, it would be the time to say goodbye. Not for the last time, but for the last time in the hope that James would hear him and wake up. It was the last time he could hear James’ heart beating, because it was better this way and what was a life depending on a machine for a man like James Bond?

He leant down to press a kiss on James’ lips, praying to whatever force was in charge that he would wake up now, that James’ eyes would snap open, he prayed to hear his name for a last time, but it didn’t happen.

Q gave a nod and wrapped his hands around James’, feeling the pulse gently beat under his skin, right underneath an IV.

The doctor pulled the cable out of the machine, and the beeping stopped.

James Bond had died a month after proposing to his fiancée, and three days after handing in his retirement. On his last mission.


	73. Chapter 73

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _(I accidentally deleted a prompt, but it was about James having a special kind of physic ability: He knows when and where he’ll die, so he does every crazy stunt because he knows it won’t kill him. How does it affect his relationship with Q? If you wrote it, I’m sorry T_T But here it is!)_

James knew the day he would die, knew when he would finally leave this world and its demons called humanity.

He knew the exact moment, knew how, where and how much it would hurt. He knew that nothing could change this, that it was destiny and that until then someone could shoot him in the head and he would survive it.

It wasn’t a prophecy or vision, he hadn’t heard a voice telling him that he would die that day, he just knew it. Like an inner clock, the numbers counting down before his inner eye every time he was out in the field, risking his life without risking it, playing with death as long as he could.

The old M had known. Which was why she had sent him out in the field against Silva, because she had known he would come out of the situation alive. The new M knew, she had left him a note, and that was why James got all the impossibly hard missions, because he would be victorious, no matter what.

He couldn’t be killed. Not even he could kill himself, not the alcohol, nor the medication he took, not an explosion, nothing.

He would be ended in two years, four weeks, three days, one hour and five minutes, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight seconds.

Knowing the day he would die wasn’t tragic or bothersome like the people knowing thought it was, it was like a relief, knowing that it would be over and that one day he wouldn’t have to drag himself out of bed, only functioning on sex, alcohol and painkillers.

One day, it would be over, and he was looking forward to it, living each day like his last, wasting money and his health just to be alive until he wouldn’t be anymore.

And then, Q stepped into his life.

Beautiful, young, intelligent and cocky Q. The new Quartermaster, the new now-and-then bedpartner, and then, the new person worth living for, the one James returned to after work and the one he held during the night, curls tickling underneath his chin and bony elbows poking his side, but he wouldn’t trait it for anything in the world.

For the first time in his life, James felt bad. He did not want to leave Q, he didn’t want to go so soon, he wanted to spend his time with him and be with him until he would grow old and go before Q did.

He didn’t want to die, James realised one night, staring at the ceiling, only two years, two weeks, seven hours, six minutes and twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three seconds left.

James held a hand over his face, covering it with it, not being able to see Q from the corner of his eyes knowing that he would be death so soon and leave the Quartermaster with a broken heart. James felt like crying, for the first time since M’s death, and he felt like ripping something apart and scream at the sky to give him more time, he didn’t want to leave Q, he didn’t want to die.

He. Did. Not. Want. To.

He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Q, not when they just had begun this relationship, not when he felt alive whenever he heard Q’s laugh, or whenever the younger man threw something at his head when he was annoying again.

Each comment about how he was getting old, each comment about how he was stupid for jumping into an explosion when he had known that he could die from it – he couldn’t have – made his heart feel heavier, each second with Q precious and worth trying and praying.

James wasn’t religious, but it was worth an attempt.

And it was as if heaven had heard him.

One night, as James couldn’t sleep, he opened his eyes and something felt off. It didn’t feel right, and he wondered if his instincts told him that something was wrong, but then he felt his inner clock and his eyes widened.

Thirty years, two months, a week, six days, four hours, thirty-three minutes and seven seconds, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve seconds.

James smiled, grip around Q’s naked, slender form tightening.


	74. Chapter 74

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "When you are done with prompts you already have, could you please write a ficlet where Q is actually younger than he looks. Like while people say he looks young they still assume he's 25ish but he's actually 14? And Bond doesn't find until after they hookup? I understand if this isn't your thing. Thank you so much for writing. Your works are brilliant."

“Do you want to drink something?”, James asked as he took his jacket off, hanging it folded over a chair before taking Q’s, the young man wearing his usual clothes but the cardigan, making him appear younger.

Q shook his head and sat down on James’ couch, cheeks heated from the coldness they just had escaped from after diner in an Italian restaurant, where they had shared a kiss and dessert, Q’s lips soft and sweet, tasting like chocolate.

“You didn’t drink anything in the restaurant either”, James stated, returning from his kitchen with a glass of scotch for himself. “No-alcohol policy?”

“You drink enough alcohol for both of us to be drunk after I kiss you, double-oh-seven. I don’t think that I need to destroy my liver too.”

There was something cheeky about the way Q smirked, like he was hiding something, and very well knowing how curious James got. He sat down next to the younger man on the couch, his side brushing Q’s, legs pressed together.

He was about to say something, but Q already got into another position, legs thrown over James’ lap, shoes off and on the ground. James raised an eyebrow, but had to smirk, loving how direct the other was.

“You can call me James, Q, I think we’re beyond the point of clinging onto code-names.”

“I won’t tell you my name, James, no matter how hard you try.”

James leant closer, breath brushing over Q’s face. “People get so chatty after sex, I could get every secret out of you would I want to.”

He reached out, fingers brushing Q’s knee and moving upwards, dangerously close to his inner thighs. Q’s eyes widened, a blush spreading out from his cheeks to the tip of his ears, adorable and cute and James wanted to kiss it until it would spread out to Q’s chest and further.

But he didn’t even come that far. The moment he would have touched Q’s crotch, the younger man pulled away, a glance of disbelief and something close to oh why do I have to do that across his face.

“How old do you think I am, James?”, Q asked, making James frown.

“Twenty-five, twenty-four, why?”

Normally he would feel hurt and would protest, but the laugher leaving Q’s mouth sounded panicked, tensed. He felt the urge to ask what was wrong, but at the same time had the feeling that he didn’t want to know it. That maybe it was best not told, and that he could just accept that apparently Q didn’t want to have sex.

Which was a pity, really, this arse would have looked wonderful underneath James.

“I knew that I behaved rather mature for my age, but that old? I don’t know whether to take it as an insult or not.” As James said nothing, just stared at Q with a blank expression, the younger sighed. “I am sixteen, James. Just turned it three days ago.”

James nearly spit out his scotch, and made a miserable coughing noise as he tried to stop himself from saying anything stupid.

Sixteen. Q was sixteen. He had offered alcohol and a cigarette to a sixteen year old and almost had have tried to have sex with a sixteen year old.

Q was sixteen.

“Don’t act like you just heard that I am a woman”, Q huffed, glaring daggers at James who had considered to back away, slowly and then run, “I’m sixteen, yes. Which is why we won’t have sex with each other because Miss Moneypenny and my minions already made it clear that should you put me to bed before I turn eighteen, they will cut your balls off and shove them down your throat. Meaning that you won’t get to have sex with me for two years.”

James felt like groaning in annoyance and desperation, but Q just smirked.

“They, however, didn’t say anything about kissing, making out or oral sex.”

Should he really have sunken that deep? Was he really ready and considering to have almost-sex with a teenager in the risk of losing his balls?

Well, yes. James leant forward, capturing Q’s lips with his own, and began to undo his shirt. There was a very special place in hell for him, he figured, but hell would have to wait.

He was busy.


	75. Chapter 75

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007-reporting asked: "Prompt: Bond doesn't realize he's hurting Q till its to late"

One night, as he came back to his senses, he found his hands around a person’s throat, fragile, thin and broken neck underneath his fingers.

He felt the dying shaking and tremors from the body, felt how their legs gave in and how they sunk down, James automatically letting go and taking a step backwards.

The flat was quiet. Not a single sound, no screaming, no crying, no gunshots, explosions or anything of that kind. He felt like waking up from a dream, felt like being pulled out of the depths of water and up into the world without his consent, felt like being born again after dying.

It was only then that he realised that he wasn’t lying in his bed, but kneeling on the ground of their living room, and that he had blood on his hands, dripping down on their white carpet.

But instead of being surprised or worried about more attackers, he immediately worried for Q. He got up on his feet, weapon in his left hand , and ran into the bedroom, but Q wasn’t there, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

The bed looked a mess, with the blankets thrown all over the ground, with blood on the headboard and with his top drawer ripped open, weapons and bullets all over the place. Had they been attacked?

“Q?”, he asked, voice hoarse and worry pressing on his chest like a weight he couldn’t stand, “Q? Q are you here?”

He carefully walked back into the living room, his eyes falling on the body.

The weapon fell on the ground, a loud noise in the silence, echoing in his head.

He had found Q, but he wished he hadn’t.

Wide, panicked, empty eyes were staring at him, so wide and huge that he knew Q must have been afraid. Hands sunken to his side, clutching around something he couldn’t see, but figured must have been in the other’s hands.

Blood on his side from a bullet wound, and his neck twisted in a way which only showed that it was broken.

James sunk down on the ground, eyes wide, expression blank, but the horror slowly broke through the numbness and made him see red.

He had killed Q.

He had killed Q.

Q was dead.

He had killed Q.


	76. Chapter 76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt - Q being protective of his minions and chewing Bond out for terrorizing them."

“James Bond, if you don’t stop traumatising my poor minions, then you will see just how uncomfortable my couch is!”

James only turned his head away from Q to the minions behind their desks, all shivering, shuddering little nerds with wide eyes and tablets clutched to their chests like they were afraid Bond would take it away from them.

Almost cute. Like barking at a puppy and make it yowl and whine in fear.

Only that he didn’t have to deal with an annoyed and angry owner or mother dog, but a very annoyed and angry Q, which was at least a dozen times worse. Because while a mother dog had teeth and could be loud, Q had the power to throw James out of their bed, and make his weapons explode in pink smoke into James’ face.

They went through that phase already. So maybe Q would send him into his next mission with one of those comic guns shooting a flag with ‘Bang!’ instead of helping him in any way.

James raised an eyebrow at one of the minions as if to ask what did I do?, but they didn’t answer and tried to disappear behind the desk further, one in tears, another one curling up in the corner and rocking back and forth.

James honestly had no idea what he had done. He had only spent the whole day down here while Q had been in M’s office, and he may or may not have said something. But he had been civilised, for once. It wasn’t his fault.

Not entirely.

“James, this is the last warning. Do you even know how long it takes to make them come out from underneath their desks? They are like fragile little birds, you can’t just go and traumatise them for life! Have you never dealt with babies?”

One minion dared to open his mouth, but a hard glance and a ‘Sush’ from Q made him shut up and disappear again.

James held his hands up in apology, a light smirk on his features. Q only sighed, rubbed his face and gestured towards the nearest corner in which no minion tried to get through his or her mental breakdown. “Go stand there and think about what you have done, and don’t you dare turn around or even make a sound or peep before I calmed everyone down.”

Q threw his hands up and went into the kitchen, getting the emergency supply of cupcakes and cookies, secretly entitled ‘007 emergency food’, out and muttering something about idiotic agents with too much muscles and no sympathy, a minion making a whimpering noise as James glared at her.

Q screamed ‘James!’ loudly and threw a cookie against his head.


	77. Chapter 77

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007-reporting asked: "Prompt: Q trying to teach Bond to use computers -- its taking longer than he hoped"

“Good, now that you managed to start the computer without throwing it out of the room-“

“The noise startled me, to my defense.”

Q tried to pat James’ hand away from the mouse, not wanting him anywhere near that before he explained which buttons not to press and that Internet Explorer was the newest attempt of satan to mess with one’s mind - he would throw James plus computer out would he dare to even open up a tab with it - and sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose again.

Ten minutes to explain how to turn on a computer. What had he got himself into.

“See this little white arrow?” James nodded, new reading glasses up on his nose. “This moves when I move this” - Q lifted up the mouse, feeling old-school and retro using this instead of his touchpad or tablet- “called mouse.”

“And why is it called mouse?”

“Because it looks like a mouse, shut up. It’s not my fault you have absolutely no knowledge about computers and it’s not my fault your next target works in an IT-company you have to get in. Now, bloody hell, focus or I’ll do something I will regret.”

Q sighed, mentally counted to the 70th number of pii, before trying his luck agian. “With this mouse, you can click on programs. Double-click on this symbol, down the right on your desktop.”

James, with narrowed eyebrows, searched for the symbol, but only as Q pointed at it in annoyance, he found it. He double-clicked, but nothing happened, only a tiny window with several options like deleting, moving and coyping popped up.

Q rolled his eyes. “With the left one, not the right.”

James tried again and they were in the internet, the starting page greeting them. James’ smile was somehow proud, and Q felt the urge to hit his head against the wall until he would pass out and get away from this.

“So you’re on the internet again. This is a window.” James opened his mouth. “No, I won’t explain to you why it’s called window and not anything else. Now you type in something into google.”

Silence, a blink.

Q groaned, forehead hitting the table in front of them. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

James only smirked, and Q gave up by standing up and leaving the room. He had the feeling James was fucking with him, and he would make him pay.

xx

James didn’t fuck with Q.

The third time he typed in google.com instead of just typing his search word into the searching bar, Q took his computer away from him and caressed the screen, mumbling an apology to it.

There was no way James would ever touch his stuff again.


	78. Chapter 78

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Can you write more about dog!James and kitten!Q?"

It was, actually, harder to believe that both still were alive.

Q always was down at Q-branch, sleeping on some minion’s keyboard, on a shiny technological thing he definitely should not be sleeping or on someone’s lap, purring away. Or he was walking around, staring at a minion and meowing when he made a mistake even though Q couldn’t see the screen or the equipment he was working on, but the cat just knew and it was horryfying.

If he wasn’t down at Q-branch, he was with James.

Both aspects didn’t speak for an animal’s long-life-cycle, a living creature not running on coffee and sugar alone shouldn’t even be allowed in Q-branch since they always seemed to forget that they had an animal to care for, and being out with James always meant that they got themselves into danger.

From walking around on the shooting range where they weren’t supposed to be, startling minions with guns or explosives in their hands, there wasn’t anything James didn’t drag his favourite cat into.

But sometimes, rarely, they would walk into a room and find the two sleeping on the ground.

With James, being the bigger one, on the ground, stretched out like he owned the floor, the room and the building itself - big, arrogant dog - and it all was his, snoring quietly and waggling with his tail, a constant thumping on the ground.

And Q either laying on top of him, curled up and a big ball of black fur, or on his side, and James would be curled around him protectivelly, with a paw thrown over the cat’s form to keep him from any harm.

Those were the rare times they didn’t cause chaos nor the occasional wave of cutness overload in Q-branch’s minions, accompanied by ‘Aws’ and the urge to caress and pet, only interrupted by either M or James’ bared teeth when someone dared to get too close.

Sometimes the people wondered how they would be as humans, if they would be the same, or if they would be as close as they were now.

But then, it probably was the best, because no one needed a chaos-maker like James in human form, capable of firing a gun.


	79. Chapter 79

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I love you very much for all these stories! Have some lucky sparkles (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧!! Can I ask a prompt where Q and Bond gets caught by M or Eve having sex on Q's office table? (ﾉ° v °)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧"

“Oh god, do that aga-ai-in!”

James did this amazing thing with his fingers again, followed by his tongue grazing over Q’s neck and making his spine rock inside his body and a moan leave his mouth, obscenely loud in the silence of his office.

Please make this room soundproof for the time we are in here, please make this room soundproof and make sure that no one comes in here, please let every cyberspace-criminal freeze or die in the time we are in here.

It was, apparently, bad luck or anything of that kind, because the moment Q came with a shout of James’ name, cum spilling on his stomach and thanks god not on his cardigan - laying on the ground - nor his shirt - unbuttoned - there was a knock on his door.

Q couldn’t react quick enough, he was a bit distracted by the way James thrust into him without any mercy, desperate from three weeks of not having seen each other, and was panting into Q’s ear, his breath hot and warm on Q’s skin, and only looked up as M and Eve already stood in the middle of the doorframe.

M looked kind of disgusted, but tried to keep his face blank and had only lowered his glance, and Eve was grinning and leaning against the wall like she was enjoying the show, and in this moment Q wanted to die because there was cum on his stomach and James had him pinned down on the desk, with Q’s legs spread and half of his upper body exposed.

“Sir”, he got out with a heavy breath, wanting to nudge James away but he only leant down and covered Q’s body with his own, “This is kind of inconvenient, I’m afraid…”

James growled, reaching out to the gun he had put away on Q’s desk, the part they weren’t occupying, but Q grasped his hand and shook his head.

“Yes, quite. Double-oh-seven, please report to me once you are…”, M cleared his throat, “Finished.”

Eve giggled, whistling cheerfully while M shoved her outside, the door falling closed again.

“I have to kill them now”, Bond said, rolling his hips against Q painfully slowly, drawing a moan from the younger man and making him lay his head back again, “They saw you naked.”

“They also saw part of your arse and do you hear me complain?”, Q huffed, “Now finish it, you have to report to M.”

James smirked, thrusting into and leaning forward, breathing a ‘As you wish, Quartermaster’ into Q’s ear.


	80. Chapter 80

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fandomtreats asked: "You write some of the best 00q I've read so far (I'm very new to the fandom) I was wondering if you could write a scene where either Q or James is watching the other sleep?"

He looked younger, less annoyed and troubled, he looked… different. But lovely.

James knew that he shouldn’t do that, watching his partner sleep when he should rest on his own, and he shouldn’t have stared at him like some stalker, because regardless of what the current generation of vampire-loving teenagers thought, stalking someone in their sleep wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t something James normally did, but tonight he just couldn’t bring himself to sleep and waste his time by not watching Q sleep.

He had woken up to something being curled up on his side, heat-seeking, mumbling something incoherent and utterly sweet and burying his face in James’ chest. James wrapped an arm around Q’s shoulder and kept him close, content to just lay there and think about his life, work, Q and a bit more about Q.

It was one of the first nights in a month or two they could spend together - James out in the field, Q working through nights in the HQ, never going home to sleep or rest - and it was the first in a while in which they had have more than just a few hours, with it being Saturday and their day off tomorrow.

Life, James thought, was quite alright. It could have been better, but it also could have been worse, and the situation they were in was a good middle. Never too boring, never too dramatic, and the right amount of little arguments and love-confessions breathed out during sex.

James smirked, drawing circles on Q’s skin with his fingers, trailing his smooth skin and bruises James has left.

He was beautiful. An angel, right there in James’ arms, and he was his and his only. James leant down to press a kiss on Q’s cheek, hearing the soft murmuring of his lover as his sleep was disturbed.

Q didn’t wake up, thankfully, he kept on sleeping and James kept on staring at him, memorising everything, from the way he squirmed to get closer to James to the occasional noise he made.

As their alarm rang and woke Q up, James closed his eyes, making it look like he was just waking up.


	81. Chapter 81

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "First: I love your writing!!! reprompt: Q and Sherlock take over NSY to find a criminal. Sally and Anderson aren't so sure anymore who's the freak... Lestrade is baffled and John smiles."

"There really are three of them."

 

“Three. I’m not sure how we survived one, but now there are two and number three must be out there somewhere, waiting to come and destroy our lives further.”

Lestrade rolled his eyes, watching how the man who had a frightening resemblance with their favourite sociopath - Q - typed away on his computer, glasses shining and smile creepy in its own way, because it looked like it wasn’t supposed to be there and just an act.

The DI couldn’t quite remember what he was doing here, it was a tripple homicide, yes, but he saw no reason to consult someone but the lunatic detective himself.

But five minutes after Sherlock had arrived, he had mumbled something about codes and Q and favours, and another five minutes later the tinier Holmes has arrived.

At least he figured that he was tinier, it was hard to tell when both had such messy hair which made them appear so tall, and were dressed in those ridiculous coats - the younger one’s far too big for his slender frame, another trait they shared.

“Are you in?”, Sherlock asked his younger brother and threw down some files from the desk to sit down next to his brother’s side, ignoring how Sally groaned in annoyance and about she would have to sort them into the right order for another three hours again.

John next to Lestrade giggled quietly and smiled, and the man who had accompanied Q - blonde, broad, muscular, piercing blue eyes and a blank expression which made Lestrade wonder where he hid his guns - snorted.

“Of course I’m in!”, Q hissed, typing again, “I hacked into this server with ten, if you can’t remember, and it hasn’t changed much!” He looked over the screen of the computer, right at Lestrade. “I’d do something about it would I be you.”

Lestrade only blinked and nodded numbly, John’s grin concerning. Next to them, Sally and Anderson were too traumatised to say anything, but he was quite sure they were wondering who was the bigger freak.

Must have been a family thing, Lestrade thought, watching how both Sherlock and Q raised their eyebrows in unison, sharp eyes rolling.

“How stupid”, Sherlock claimed, taking John’s hand to drag him along while Q began to dis-connect his computer from the SY’s, “We have the criminal, Lestrade, it was the father!”

“And what did you need my computer for-“, Lestrade wanted to ask, but Q already was up, adjusting his cardigan and his glasses again.

“Really, do upgrate your system. Even James could hack into that.”

With that he was out, the blonde man immediately following. Lestrade only heard something alike ‘There’s no need to be rude, Q’ before Sally next to him collapsed, and Anderson turned, mumbling that he needed coffee.

Lestrade stood there, glancing at the chaos of files, cables and broken mugs Q and Sherlock had left.

_What the heck had that been?_


	82. Chapter 82

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt: Q is in danger (kidnapped etc.) and Bond's only choice to save him is being against MI6."

They gave Q up four days after he had been taken away, and the team out to search him came back with empty hands, Q’s ID bloody and found in their hands.

James refused to accept it, refused to give up like that.

They couldn’t find a single signal, they couldn’t find anything, nothing from the tracking devices implanted in Q, and nothing from the one in his glasses and in his clothes. He either was dead, or alive and somewhere where the devices didn’t work.

Wherever he was, Bond would find him, no matter what M or someone else said.

They thought he was dead, and that there was no use in trying to find Q. He didn’t have a capsule as his way out, meaning that they must have killed him already, or he had gone rogue and they would have to eleminate him before secrets could leak out.

James believed neither, and was determined to proove them all wrong. So, after the team returned without having been successful, James tried to convince M to let him go and look for Q, that he would be able to track him down.

M stared at him, shook his head and gave James the order to let the subject drop. Would he go against this order, he would go against the whole MI6, and against everything he was living for.

Wrong.

M was wrong.

James didn’t live for MI6 anymore, he wasn’t their puppet without brain, he had a person he cared for and he bloody would.

He left Britain on a stormy day, armed and with wounds where he had cut the tracking devices out of his body and skin. He would find Q, and then they would run.

Run until they would be found.


	83. Chapter 83

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007-reporting asked: "Q getting used to James' Daemon about and the other way around"

“Look, I know that we had a nasty start”, James said to the raven sitting a bit away from him on the backrest of the chair, blinking at him with dark, unreadable eyes, “But you really didn’t have to shit on my suit.”

“You have enough of those”, the daemon replied, wings fluttering in amusement.

James sighed, wondering why he had to be the more mature one of the two, and why he had to talk to his partner’s daemon and apologise. Of all things.

“But I liked that one”, he sighed, running a hand through his own deamon’s fur, the tiger making a pleased, deep noise close to a growl, “That doesn’t matter now, though. For the sake of not driving each other crazy, I think it about time we put aside our problems and work this out. Or else you will hate living here with me as much as I hate living with you at the moment.”

The raven stared at him, and James wondered if he should have backed away before he had even thought about doing this.

“You realised you just practically said that you hate living together with Q?”, the raven titled her head to the side, making a noise with her beak like clicking one’s tongue, “Which, for your sake, I hope you don’t.”

James’ daemon growled again and opened her eyes, staring at the bird which just fluttered with her wings again, like a challenge.

“Arguing with my daemon again?”

The raven flew off the chair and landed on her human’s shoulder, Q reaching up and running his hands over her feathers softly. The bird curred, rubbing the side of her head against Q’s neck, making James sigh.

It was like fighting with the stepchild for the mother’s sake, and seeing that he was loosing.

Only worse, because Q’s soul would never leave him, not like a child, and he was really quite desperate to make it work, to be honest. Hence his attempts to work this out. He could not allow another suit to get pulled into this childish feud.

“Just trying to settle the terms and conditions”, James joked with a charming, toothy smirk, earning an eye roll from Q as he reached out to the newspaper, shoulder blades moving underneath his pale skin, muscles and freckles visible.

James licked his lips, and his daemon butted him in the side with her head.

“Stop that.”

James chuckled, watching Q settle down next to him, leaning against his daemon’s side while the raven made himself comfortable on James’ shoulder.

“This conversation’s not over yet.”

Shaking his head, James leant over to Q and pressed a kiss on Q’s cheek, feeling a strange sting of familarity at this. Maybe he could get used to the bird, and not be tempted to pick out some feathers just to spite her.


	84. Chapter 84

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007-reporting asked: "Prompt: Q went Rogue and Bond is set up by M to go kill him ( Bond doesn't know its actually Q until the shot is fired )"

A soldier sometimes knew everything about his target. Knew where he or she lived, where they spend their mornings and evenings, knew about their favourite food, the way they drank their coffee and when it was most likely that they would be alone.

An agent sometimes knew more, all it took to eleminate that target without drawing too much attention to oneself and the mission.

But sometimes, sometimes they knew nothing but that the target had to be killed, and where he could be found, and then there was no possibility to be attached, fascinated or curious.

You just pulled the trigger, shot and watched the body hit the ground, blood and brain liquids spilling out of the bullet hole.

James had have enough of those missions in his life, and he knew that those were the most boring ones. Get in, kill the guards, kill the target, get out.

No seducing, no dancing around the target like a spider around the insect, no action. Just the kill.

And most of the times, he found himself bored of all things, and not glad that his mission was over, but disappointed that it already was indeed over.

This time, however, he felt nothing. No rage, no disappointment, not the familiar tingling of the trigger against his skin, not the satisfaction it brought out in him to shoot and kill and decide over life and death.

No, he felt numb.

As he watched the target sink down to the ground, bullet wound disappearing beneath a chaos of hair, brown-ish curls, glasses falling down and shaddering on the ground, the shards flying everywhere, he felt nothing.

He had pulled the trigger the moment his target had entered the room, at exactly half past five like M had told him, a young man, thin and slender, shadow from the car somehow having been familiar but Bond hadn’t been able to say why.

Now he knew it, and he wished that he wouldn’t.

The laptop fell down too, and the screen was broken as James got inside the room to check that the target indeed was dead, no pulse, no heartbeat, nothing.

As wide, green eyes stared up at him from pale, lifeless skin and high cheek-bones, he pressed his fingers against Q’s neck, waiting, hoping.

Nothing, so James stood up, took the laptop and disappeared again.

xx

Five days later, they found him with a bullet in his skull, gun still in his hand.


	85. Chapter 85

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hello darling! I loved your last taken prompt that Q was kidnapped, Bond doesn't listen M and goes to find him... Can you continue it ? <3" (chapter 82)

He found Q in a basement, face full with bruises and bloody wounds, fingers twisted in an unnatural angle, and shirt soaked with blood and sweat. He found him with his glasses broken, and his pulse nearly none-existing, with his body only held up by the chains around his wrists and feet, head sunken down and eyes closed

He found him surrounded by three men, two armed, the third giving Q something to drink by putting a plastic cup on a hook attached on a stick, like he was bloody Jesus or something, and shot in their heads within the blink of an eye.

Q cracked an eye - the not-swollen one - open and looked at James, vision probably blurry because of the broken glass, green eyes nearly red from the blood from a shard sticking right in his eye ball, it was a wonder he still could see at all.

“J-Ja…”, Q rasped out, voice broken, cracked and defeated, lips barely moving and speaking seemed to hurt because he began to cough, “Ja…me…”

James silenced him with a ‘Ssh’, before beginning to undo Q’s chains, having to shoot at the ones keeping his feet - legs spread with a chain connecting them - on the wall to get it open.

He found Q with his body falling right into James’ arms, no energy left to hold himself up, tears beginning to clean his dirty skin, washing away dried blood and dirt.

He found Q dozing off into unconsciousness, and he found him with blood on his hands, and dirt under his nails.

xx

They had to get away, as quickly as possible, because once the corpses would be found, MI6 would find out where they were.

James knew it would be nearly impossible to get Q out of the country without any help and in this state, but he had to try and safe his life, or else he would have gone through this for nothing.

With the money he had taken off his bank account right before MI6 had blocked his access, he booked them a room in a motel, dirty, with insects on the ground, but compared to the cell Q had been in, it was like heaven.

He put the younger man on the bed and slept on the ground, waking up with a cockroach in his mouth and dirt on the right side of his face.

He cleaned Q’s wounds, carried him into the bathtub and cleaned him, glad that money could silence people or else he would have to deal with the police, and he nearly was out of ammo.

Q didn’t wake up for a week, and in that time James had moved them to the other side of the country, as far away as possible from the cell and the corpses and MI6.

He stared down the hill they were on, hotel right behind him, watching the sun disappear, and decided that he should have done this earlier.


	86. Chapter 86

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tracionn asked: "Here I am shooting again :) I'd love some dirty talk, preferably Bond to Q and Bond throws some technical terms in or explaines everything with detailed precision or so and Q goes wild. (If possible good dirty talk, not like 'slut' or 'whore', but with the Bond-like style?)"

“Have you ever had sex in a shower, Q?”

Q blinked and turned his head towards one of his minions, who slowly took off the headphones, backed away from his computer and ran like his life depended on it. Some, older and already experienced ones in this matter, just rolled their eyes and muted their microphones, some doing nothing to listen.

“Don’t you remember we had a conversation about this, double-oh-seven? No dirty talk over the microphone where everyone can hear you?”

James chuckled deeply, the sound sending a shiver through Q’s body and making him squirm on his seat in an attempt to try and stay professional, but they all knew what would happen, no matter how hard Q tried to make Bond stop.

Because he was James Bond, and he didn’t stop.

“Please Q, you were the one telling me that talking to you is better than making you listen to silence in worry that I got killed.” Q sank down in his seat, hoping that he magically turned invisible and no one was seeing him. “Answer my question please, did you ever have sex in the shower?”

“No…”

“It is a wonderful feeling, my dear. Especially if you turn the water cold, cold enough to normally make you run out of the shower cabin and curse, but in the context of sex it makes things more interesting.” James paused, and for a moment Q could hear muffled voices, but they seemed to walk away and James continued. “Imagine showering, maybe in the morning when you are half asleep and want to go back to bed. The water is warm on your skin, and you lean against the tiles on the wall while the water runs down your back. And then…”

Q practically could hear his grin, and knew he was in for trouble.

“Someone joins you. Your lover, partner, and he wraps his arm around your waist, kissing your neck and nuzzling your wet hair. You can feel his body behind you, his erection pressing against your arse, and his breath on your neck and shoulder as he leaves kisses all over your wet skin. He turns you around, and you see how the water makes his hair look like it is glued to his face, but you don’t hate it or think it’s ridiculous, not with the way his lust-blown eyes are staring at you, like you are the most important thing in the world, and not with the heat building up in your lower stomach and not with your cock rising to attention.”

Q crossed his legs, squirming until his desk hid more of his lap. Not nice. Not at all.

“He presses you against the wall, and you feel the coldness of the tiles against your back, hot on cold”, James chuckled, “You see Q, that is the wonderful thing about having sex in the showering while the water is cold. It’s a contrast making your skin burn and every touch feel like a brush on your prostate.”

 _Why me of all people, why do I have to go through this, why not Eve or M or someone else_ , Q thought, growing desperate, _bloody hell, I get an erection. During work. With a room full of minions and with M behind me. Again.._

“Your lover kisses you, and licks his way into your mouth, and you feel yourself melt into the touch and your body graves more. And you want to turn around and turn the water off because it is too hot, but no, your partner reaches out and turns it cold.”

Silence. A tiny hitch of breath, not noticeable, but Q’s ears picked it up anyway. His trousers felt too tight, and his palms too sweaty to type on his keyboard.

“Each waterdrop feels cold and icy on your skin, and they come in dozens, if not more. But your lover presses his body against yours, his erection brushes yours and you - half lost in the sensations, hot and cold, hot skin and heated flesh, cold water and steam - reach out to stroke your lover and yourself at the same time. And the water, my dear Q, it doesn’t stop. It drops on your head, your shoulders, your cock and it makes you moan and pant, and as he finally turns you around and pushes into you gently, you can feel the water run down your back, over his cock onto the ground, knowing that soon, your come will be washed down too.”

Q stood up and left the room, as quickly as possible to not let anyone see his erection, a visible bulge in his trousers.

He would make Bond pay for this.

xx

As James returned from Sweden a week later, he opened the entrance door to their flat only to hear the shower running.

He had to smirk, letting his clothes fall on the ground as he walked towards the bathroom to join his lover, to show him exactly what he had talked about.


	87. Chapter 87

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dammitcaswecanfixthis asked: "Prompt time! Q and Bond move in together for the first time, but it's not as easy as they thought it would be. Q likes things a certain way and Bond is beautiful chaos. (also known as Q is OCD and has a hard time adjusting)"

Q returned to the flat to find it in chaos.

Everyone else would have entitled it as a tiny mess and would have moved on, but for Q it was like hell and he wanted to take a step backwards, close the door again only to open it and then it would be alright again.

He had already locked the door though, thrice, and didn’t want to open it again because then he would have to lock it three times again, so he put his coat where it belonged - bent down, took James’ and put it there too - and walked into the living room.

It was worse there, and he felt the creeping feeling of wrongwrongwrongfixitwrong inside his body, a tremor of tension rushing through him and making him blink once, twice… thrice.

A mug on the coffee table where it didn’t belong, a jacket thrown on the ground, next to a towel - wet - and there were coffee stains on the backrest of the couch, right above James’ head.

James, who was laying on said couch, with his shoes still on and with the TV remote in his hands. Q chewed on his lower lip, only staring.

They had moved in together a few days ago, but James had been away out in the field and Q alone until then. He had moved James’ clothes into the closet, had put everything where it belonged and now… chaos.

He had seen James’ own flat, the one he had bought shortly after Skyfall, and knew how chaotic he was.

An ex-navy commander who had absolutely no idea about leaving stuff where it belonged and returning it to said spot again later.

An agent who now was living together with Q, and whose behaviour was not only annoying and wrong, but also messy, and it bothered Q more than it should have.

He bent down and picked the towel up, brought it into the bathroom and the laundry pile in the box they had for it, then took James’ jacket and returned it into the bedroom.

He put the mug away, right where it belonged, then began to clean.

Every inch of the house, every corner, every spot underneath an object, he freed everything of dust and spots and made sure that everything was clean before going through it again, using the cleaner and making the bed even though it had already been fine.

James stepped behind him as Q washed the kitchen sink for the fourth time, wrapped an arm around the Quartermaster and pressed a kiss on his neck, holding Q’s hand so he couldn’t try and wash away the DNA and dirt from the spot.

“You didn’t say hello to me yet”, James mumbled and, slowly, pulled Q into the living room with him, not mentioning anything because he knew that he would only make it worse.

He knew that both had to do something to make this work, but not now. There was time for that later.


	88. Chapter 88

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loveless801 asked: "Ohhhh... I wonder if you got the other prompts I sent. O A O;; But if you're still taking prompts can I have one where Q is being a workaholic and Bond just wants him to get some rest and spend some time with him?"

“Q, you have been working for ten hours straight.”

Q didn’t react for maybe five to ten minutes, and James had been about to just take the chord connecting the computer to the electricity it needed, but then the Quartermaster turned his head into James’ direction and sighed.

He opened his mouth to say something, but turned around again and typed, a bit more quickly than before.

“When was the last time you went home? You already were wearing this shirt when I left three days ago.” James frowned, turning around to the minions, one daring to nod weakly. “Don’t tell me you’ve been here for three days straight.”

“Unlike other people”, Q began, and James knew what he would say, because he always did, “I have work to do. Important work, not consisting of randomly shooting people and seducing women.”

James wanted to say that he had seduced a man this time, and hadn’t ended up in bed with him regardless, but that was besides the point and not important now.

And he figured that Q had been the one monitoring him the whole time, since he had not left the HQ for three or four days.

If James thought about it, he hadn’t been home the day before he had left for the mission too, so many four or five days.

Enough was enough.

Grasping Q’s shoulders, he pulled the younger man off his chair and lifted him up into James’ arms, dragging him out. He heard something like giggling from the minions, and some cursing from Q, but he blended out both to focus on keeping Q steady and not letting go of him.

For someone this bony and nerdy, Q knew where to scratch or bite to make James feel pain (or pleasure, in another context, somewhere more private).

“What the bloody hell are you doing?!”, Q asked as James put him down on the passenger’s seat in his car, putting the seatbelt on before Q could run and get away - he was a very fast runner.

“Taking you home. You need sleep, food, and I need your company”, James stated, slipping on the driver’s seat to Q’s right, “And I want to spend some time with you. You’ll take a day off tomorrow and we can spend our time fucking, eating, fucking and making out on the couch.”

Q was strangely silent during the car ride, and James took it as a victory.


	89. Chapter 89

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt : Q was raped. James tries to talk to him about it. Q and Bond are a couple. Hurt/Comfort. Thanks <3"

“Do you want to talk about it?”

James leant against the kitchen counter, far enough away from Q to not make him feel traped or caged. He had never dealt with victims of something like that before, had no idea how. But he had to, for Q’s and his own sake.

Q only shook his head, staring into the mug with the already cold tea - not having moved since James had picked him up from the hospital, and not since James had prepared his cup for him.

James sighed, getting closer anyway, trying to see if Q tensed or tried to get away further.

None of that happened. Q only looked at James from the corner of his eyes and sucked his lower lip between his teeth, but he didn’t tense. Didn’t move away.

James had no idea if that meant something good or bad, but he didn’t want to ask nor test his luck.

So instead he only moved closer to Q, sat down on the edge of the table and reached out to him. After the first instinct to tense and get away, Q took James’ hand, gripping it tightly and revealing just how much he wasn’t okay.

“You know I’m not good with such things, but I promise you I’l be there for you. And I will make you through this.”

Q nodded and looked up, smiling weakly. He squirmed closer, head resting against James’ belly. Q closed his eyes and let go, tears running down his cheeks, and sobs leaving his mouth.

James held him through it, and ignored how his heart clutched.


	90. Chapter 90

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Ooh, I have a prompt! Q gets kidnapped, but instead of his kidnappers trying to force information out of him, the try to hypnotize/brainwash him to join them."

The same thing over and over again. The same pattern of light, the same melody, everything the same.

Since four days. Maybe less. Maybe more, Q couldn’t tell.

But the combined stimuli on his ears, his eyes and his brain slowly drew him crazy, and he had long ago figured out that that was exactly what they wanted.

They wanted to drive him crazy, and he could feel that they were succeeding, no matter how hard he tried to resist them. But he just couldn’t, it was too much stimuli, nothing else to focus on to distract himself, he knew they would find him but maybe then it would already be too late.

He just hoped that for once, he would be wrong. That for once MI6 would manage to get here in time and not to pick up the pieces and watch him do whatever they wanted him to do. Because that obviously was hypnosis, and though he had gone through a brief training against hypnosis and brainwashing in general, he had not once been warned about that.

Dancing lights around him, circling him in the opposite direction, flames throwing shadows against the wall, demons and monsters dancing, low and creepy music tunes echoing from the walls in which only he was, the chair and the machine around him, moving the torchlights on the ceiling in front of his eyes.

Said where fixed on the view in front of him, he had tried closing them but they noticed, they always saw him, and then they hurt him.

So all Q could do was stare at the lights, try not to let it affect him, but soon enough he felt his consciousness slip away, darkness embracing him and dragging him down with cold, loving claws, and his eyes fluttered before falling close, body going limp…

xx

They found him a day later, unwounded, a bit confused and off, but fine.

Two days later, the weapon tresor in MI6 and the whole Q-branch exploded, fire and bursting stone illuminating the night as dozens of agents died. Q-branch was destroyed completely, most minions dead, and computers destroyed.

They found Q outside, eyes wide but empty, with a laptop in his hands, not reacting as they spoke to him.

It was a day later that they realised he had been used against them, and that not even Q had noticed it.


	91. Chapter 91

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I LOVE that picture that you drew of Q holding a drink with his shirt mostly undone and James just behind him with a gun in hand. Could you maybe write a fic based on that?"

As Q woke up, James stood in front of their bed, weapon in his hands and safety released, tension going through his torso, muscles shifting and tensing - the weapon was awake, and ready.

Sleepily, he sat up and blinked, wondering what was going on, but James already went out of the room, trousers nearly slipping down his hips without the belt, jeans Q had bought him as a joke.

Someone must be out there, Q thought, a thug or thief maybe, about to be shot in the head by a double-oh again.

That escaladed quickly.

Q found his glasses after a few attempts, unsuccessful, to locate them without looking at the bedside table, and slipped out of the bed, shivering as the cold air of the night brushed his naked skin, still sore and cooled down after the intimacy he and James had shared and experienced about an hour ago.

He felt no desire to walk into a room with a corpse, or maybe interrogated thug, so he put on one of James’ shirts, too big, too wide around the shoulders, hips, everywhere, but it went over his crotch and covered it, so that was a loss he could survive.

He only buttoned it a bit at the bottom, then took James’ nearly empty glass of martini - shaken, not stirred, Q, you should have memorised that by now - to wash it out before going into the living room.

What he saw nearly made him drop his glass, but he only wrapped his fingers around it and drank a sip, to calm down his nerves.

No thief, no thug, no organisation of terrorists wanting to kill Q, James or kidnap either or both of them, nothing to be worried about yet he still felt his heart rate increase and his pulse quicken.

“Eve?!”, Q breathed out as he stepped in front of Bond, ignoring the elder’s grunt of protest, if only because Q dared to interrupt his act of Alpha male protecting his poor defenseless mate or because he drank from his glass, “What are you doing here at…”

He looked around for something to read the time off, but found no clock - after James had shot down the last - and just sighed. “In the middle of the night?”

The person spoken to only smiled and lifted a bag, in which Q could see a package wrapped in bright, colourful paper.

He blinked, felt Bond frown behind him, bodies so close he could feel his lover’s body heat. Q lifted the glass to his lips and drank as he stared at Eve, watching her take out the package with a smug and lovely grin.

“It’s a minute after midnight.”

“So? Is that a reason to break into the flat, or did you just want to see us?”, James said with an amused intonation, breath brushing Q’s nape and making him shiver, metal of the gun bumping against his side as James moved.

“It’s…”

Q blinked, realisation hitting him.

Oh god no.

“…Q’s birthday, you brat!”

Q groaned, downing the glass. James tensed behind him, blinking.

Crap.


	92. Chapter 92

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hi! Can I just say, I absolutely adore your 00Q prompt fills! They are literally perfect and, just, well, lovely. If you are still taking prompts could you do an Eve and Q as brilliant, underestimated but secret BAMF!bffs? Thanks! :D"

“Tell me, Eve, why are we doing this again?”

Next to him, Eve chuckled, adjusting her sunglasses on her face, jacket dancing with the wind as they stood there, up to where they normally shouldn’t have got access to.

“Because my dear Q, your fitness has suffered since you and James hooked up.”

Q snorted. “It has not. I let you know that my fitness has, if anything, increased, which I have to thank James for.” He winked at her, making her giggle behind the back of her hand. “He is very convincing in that matter.”

“I didn’t ask about a look into your personal sex life, Q.”

“Ah, out of a sudden? I remember after I told you that we got together you wanted to know everything, from how long James is, to in which positions we had sex to how his come tastes like.”

“Well you made me curious.”

Q huffed. “Oh shut up and jump, for god’s sake, or I’ll make you.”

He shouldn’t have said that, maybe, because the next moment he felt a strong hand on his back pushing him down, the air rushing past his ears, hat falling off his head and flying through the air.

He yelled some curses and insults, glasses being pressed against his eyes and nose, gusts of wind and air too cold in his face, like cuts from a knife or wire.

And then he could see it underneath him, and quickly pulled the string, feeling the parachute opening above his head.

“Coward!”, Eve screamed, her voice barely audible because of the speed Q had, but he knew that she had said that, because it was Eve, “You had at least three minutes!”

“Do it better, sister!”

She did, of course. She jumped down with more grace than anyone jumping off a helicopter they had… lent from MI6 should possess, hair and jacket fluttering in the air. He feared for her high heels, and saw them already hitting his face, but they stayed on her feet, surprisingly.

Even her hair was as fresh as before, and her dress looked gorgeous in the sky.

She opened her parachute at least three minutes after Q had, but still was faster and the first one down, Q following her with a laugher, and with coughs from being out of breath and having laughed too much.

“Told you.”

“Shut up, Eve. I’m not an agent.”

“Ex-agent.”

“More ex-BAMF.”

She glared at him, before pinning him down the ground, ignoring his cries for help in between laughing attacks and tears streaming down his face.

They were found by double-oh-seven, who just raised an eyebrow.

“Please let go of my Quartermaster?” Eve did after messing up Q’s hair even more, letting go of him and jumping on her feet. “Thank you.”


	93. Chapter 93

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt : Someone is jealous of Q (wanted the job after years and years working in Q-branch), or whatever. Thus follow attacks against Q, or ways to make him appear as unfit for this job. Anyway, the "enemy" comes from inside MI6. Make whatever you want with this. Thank you ! (And btw your blog rocks ! You write so much, I'm impressed ! Love all of it !)"

Q had always known that someone like Jane meant danger, and that he should have never allowed her to start working in Q-branch, but he had allowed himself to be blended by her codes and her charming personality, pressing the buttons like she had created them, and making sure everyone knew just how good she was.

She had been there long before him, but the former Q had wanted to fire her and he had brought her back.

Good enough for Q to ignore her and her obvious distate of everything he liked, and good enough for him to ignore the feeling of suspicion creeping through him like a vision.

Good enough for him to not be surprised as she stood in front of his door one day, clothes soaked because of the rain outside, and a bottle of wine in her hands.

Maybe he had allowed himself to be honoured to be the person she thought about when wanting to celebrate their latest achievement - they had taken down a very large, very powerful and very clever hacker organisation in Germany - with a colleague, and maybe he had just felt lonely, and she was there, presenting him a toothy, beautiful smile and the bottle.

He ordered food for them, Chinese like she said she liked the most, and they talked for hours straight, eating, drinking from the wine and laughing.

He knew, or figured back then, that she wanted to have sex with him, and he knew that he didn’t, but nothing spoke against good company over dinner and wine, so he said nothing.

Later, when the rain had stopped, the food was gone and the bottle empty, he realised that she was smiling, starting to feel strange, like his body went numb and it was too cold and too hot at once.

She smiled, something sparkling in her eyes. “You are too naive for this job, Q. You don’t deserve it, but I do. I worked for ten years under the old Q, I should have been the one getting the job.” She stood up, and Q did too, legs giving in and world becoming blurry as his glasses fell down, and just like them he did, hitting the floor with a loud thump. “I am the best in this line of work, and now that you will die, I will be the best suited candidate.”

“You… d-drank from it…”, he stated, eyes wide as he realised how stupid he had been, thousands of possibilities about how he could try and survive running through his mind, but none working, nothing stayed. “Give the… medication… to… me…”

She tutted, leaning down. “No. Have fun dying, Q.”

With the clicking of her high heels, she went out of his vision, and slowly, Q could feel his heart beat slower and slower, corners of his vision going black before he saw nothing anymore, and the world slipped out of his hands like air out of a drowning man’s lungs.

He did not hear the sound of a door being kicked open, nor did he feel the hands lifting him up.

But he felt death, and death welcomed him with a smile.

xx

Only to let him go again, grasp gone, and the numbness of his body fading painfully slowly.

Q gasped as he sat up, head dizzy and vision blurry, every inch of his being in pain.

“Wha…”, he breathed out, only to realise that he wasn’t alone.

Bond stood in the corner of the room, gun in his hand, eyes fixed on the door. He said nothing as Q woke up, only nodded and went over to the door, slipping out silently.

He had been, M told him later, watching Q for three days, not moving, not letting anyone in, always protecting Q.

And he seemed to be determined to keep on doing it, because Q couldn’t step out of Q-branch without the agent on his trail, following him silently like a body-guard.

Q found himself not minding it.


	94. Chapter 94

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loveless801 asked: "Yay~ thanks so much. Okay, another one then? AU! Where Q is an art student and Bond turned out to be one of their models for a certain subject. Somehow Bond seems to grow fond of Q and eventually tries to ask him out, but it isn't easy to get a 'yes' from Q. Please and thank you. :'D"

“I don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Q rolled his eyes, putting his pencil down for a moment and looking up again. James shot him a toothy grin where he was standing in the middle of the room, somehow being able to speak without moving his lips, so no one had to correct their drawings of his face.

The grin now, though, caused the ten students in the room to drop their pencils, take their rubbers and correct their drawings.

“Date. It’s annoying, it only ends in faked promises, and it only ends in broken hearts.” Q picked his pencil up again, drawing something.

For once, Bond held still, and everyone quickly drew for they knew that he would end up moving again just to tease them, and he very well knew that he could get away with it. M had a weak spot for the model, and he was the best one for this task.

“I can promise you that I would not make any faked promises”, Bond said and Q honestly wondered how he could speak without moving his lips. “It’s only one date, Q. I’ll take you out to dinner, then we’ll go to my apartement and maybe I’ll take you to bed afterwards.”

One of the female students giggled, another one blushed. Q only huffed in annoyance, tempted to draw something nasty on Bond just because.

“Bond, no.”

Bond pouted, an expression which shouldn’t be possible in a forty year old’s face, and everyone sighed, rubbers moved. Q almost felt pity and wanted to warn them, tell them that Bond would move again anyway, but they wouldn’t listen.

Posh bastards.

“Please. One date.”

The ringing of the bell broke the silence in the room, students leaving the room, everyone getting ready for the next lesson. Q got up, put his drawing book into the bag and shouldered it.

“No. Try again tomorrow.”

Q left, but stopped in the doorframe.

“Stop staring at my arse.”

Bond smirked. “No. Request that again tomorrow.”


	95. Chapter 95

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hello deary! Your fills are absolutely lovely. If you have time, can you write something about James being the last one to notice he is dating Q. Bonus points if Q knew from the very beginning and James being confused when everyone implies he is a monogamous relationship."

“Does Q know?”

James frowned and looked up from his glass of scotch, eyebrows narrowed as he stared at Eve in something close to wonder.

Does Q know what?

That he had not returned his equipment again? Of course he did. James hadn’t been down at Q-branch yet, the medical team had found a way to force him onto a bed for stitches and some painkillers, and then M had demanded an explanation why Serbia send a message saying _Your blond, blue-eyed agent with the suit kink is not allowed to enter our country ever again_.

Suit kink, really, what was so wrong with an appropriate taste in clothes and fashion?

But Q knew that James hadn’t returned the equipment, because James never did and he only had once to show Q that he could, would he want to. And that had nothing to do with the dinner Q had to pay James afterwards.

That had been a matter of pride.

So did he know what? There were so many possibilities, did he know that James was wounded and would terrorise his minions for at least two weeks, did he know that James had lost his radio because he had been stupid enough to let it fall into his drink and, well, drink it?

“Does he know that you kissed a woman, James”, Eve explained, fingernails tapping a melody on the desk she was sitting on, smile tight and a bit too concerned for James’ taste, “I don’t think he took it lightly. It’s not sex like usually, so I think he’ll forgive yo-“

“Why should Q be interested in who I kiss and who not?”

Eve blinked, for once - maybe he should make a red cross in his calendar for today - completely still. But then she raised an eyebrow, a familiar expression hurting in James’ chest like a sting.

“You really don’t know”, she muttered, taking away his alcohol, “Dear, let me give you a revelation: You and Q are dating, you kissed a woman, I guess he won’t be happy about it.”

Now it was Bond’s time to blink. He wondered whether those were hallucinations from the painkillers, the alcohol, the rest of poison in his blood circulation, or all of it at once. Probably the latter, he thought, taking a large sip of scotch directly from the bottle.

“Oh come on, you cannot tell me that you had no idea. You were taking him out to dinners!”

“Yes, but those were-“

“Bets. Bets you knew he would easily win and bets he knew he would not”, Eve sighed, “James, please. You have been in a monogamous relationship with Q for six months, and that is the most stable and longest one you ever had.” She smirked. “Without ever having kissed nor had sex.”

“Don’t be absurd, Eve, I’m not in a relationship with Q.”

“You are”, M mumbled and Eve lifted a cup of coffee, which he took as she simply passed them on his way back into the office, exhaustion and headache visible in his face.

“See”, Eve chuckled and turned to her computer, “Everyone knows it. Q knows it.”

James stood up and limped of the room, heading down straight to Q-branch.

Q was standing behind his desk like usually, typing in a speed which Bond could only dream of, back turned towards Bond as he entered and took place on his usual spot, sitting at the edge of the desk.

“Apparently we’ve been in a relationship since six months”, James whispered, watching Q work, “And apparently everyone but me knew about it.”

“Aha?”

Bond frowned, wondering why he of all people had to wonder about that.

“Yes, and apparently you knew too?”

“Really, double-oh-seven, let’s not have such a conversation at work.” Q looked up briefly, ghost of a smirk hushing over his features. “But yes, everyone knew. Plus me.”

James blinked once or twice, maybe thrice, and then just sighed. “Let’s talk about it during dinner, then?”


	96. Chapter 96

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Are you still taking prompts for your lovely writing? I sent this one a while back but I think it got deleted, you said your inbox was acting wonky. Anyways, I have this headcanon that Q is a major sweet tooth, especially under stress from work, but is afraid of the dentist. So, one day, he gets a worrisome toothache, but is stubborn about going to get it looked at. Bond finds that idiotic and tries to force him."

“I could just throw you over my shoulder and force you out, Q.”

James was sure Q had tried to say something along the lines ‘But you won’t’, but he couldn’t understand a single word.

Q was speaking into the pillow he was pressing on his face, every sound muffled, but Bond could clearly hear a whimper and a whine. It almost was cute, almost.

“Q, you are being incredibly childish for someone who claims to not be young nor not mature.” James sat down on the armrest of the couch, patting Q’s hand away as he tried to reach out to the painkillers Q had stolen out of James’ part of the closet above the sink.

“‘M not”, Q mumbled and whined again as he spoke, toothache probably worse now that he tried to speak clearly enough.

“You are. Why don’t you just go to the-“

“Don’ say it!”, Q huffed and sat up, glaring daggers at James.

Or tried to, maybe. It was hard to tell if he was when he was pouting so beautifully cute, with his expression as suffering as it was sweet.

Ironic, considering that Q’s sweet tooth was the reason for this.

“-Dentist.”

Q groaned and buried his face in the pillow again, squirming away from James as far as possible. The elder just laughed softly, reaching out to comb through Q’s hair with his fingers.

“Sh’ up.”

“Q-“

“No. Sh’ up.”

xx

At the end, James dragged Q to the dentist, ignored the way he was screaming - despise his toothache - and trying to get away from the death-grip James had around his waist.

The dentist was a calm, young lady, and she gave Q a lolli once she was finished.


	97. Chapter 97

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sl0ff asked: "Could you write a NSFW prompt of Q unexpectedly going into heat due to James’s high alpha pheromones? =u= he he he"

Q usually had timed his heats as close to perfection as one could get with strictly biological things. He had a calendar on his table, and a minion who always told him when he should leave the office and listen to his Alpha.

But this time, his attempts to calculate and put biology into mathematical pattern and drawers had not worked, and it was worse since he was in his office as the heat began.

Q-branch consisted of Betas and Omegas only, which gave them the reputation of being hormone-driven, caffeine-crazy nerds with too many explosives too close to some minion feeling in the mood for… experiments.

And it was hard to explain an angry Alpha why her Omega had some burning marks on his hands.

It was to Q’s luck that no Alpha was around at that time, because else he would have found himself in quite a danger - since most Alphas here probably wouldn’t care about him being bonded, most rarely had sex with anything but a Beta or the occasional Omega on missions.

Take a toy away from a dog, and the moment he sees it again he’ll be wild.

Someone brought Q into his office, the locked one, and made him close the doors, then they contacted Bond as his Alpha to come down and take care of everything. Q-branch was panicked, some minions spitting coffee on their screens, others giggling to themselves in amusement, the other Omegas who knew better than worrying about an early heat.

Bonding, the shift of cycles, the adjustments Q’s body made now that he had a willing, potent Alpha at his side, it was normal.

The Betas only had to realise that, and not worry about poison, illnesses or anything of that kind.

Bond arrived five minutes after they had called him, the faint scent of an Omega in heat laying in the air of the room, thick enough for him to think about sticking his tongue out and taste it.

But he had to wait, only until he could enter the room where Q was in, press this delicious body against the nearest surface and bury himself in the slick, needy heat of Q’s hole until he would be filled with his semen and they both be satisfied.

Bond knocked impatiently, waiting, tapping a melody on the ground with his foot impatiently. Q’s body was calling out for him, inviting him, the scent wrapping itself around his mind and making him want to fuck, claim, impregnate and fuck for the next three or four days straight, he needed him and he needed him now, his trousers were getting tighter and tighter, and his body felt too hot.

He knocked again. “Q? It’s me, James, open the door.” _Or else I’ll kick it in and take you wherever you are standing at the moment._

Finally, the door was opened, the familiar clicking of a lock being undone, and James stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind him and forcing Q against the table.

“You are early”, he breathed out, burying his face in Q’s neck while yanking down his trousers, feeling the wet slickness of his heat running down Q’s inner thighs. “Your body calls out for me and it drives me crazy, all I want to do is fuck you and make you scream.”

Q only moaned, reduced to animalistic and needy noises, rubbing his arse around the bulge in James’ trousers as he was turned around and bent over the desk, glasses falling off and slipping over it.

James wasted no time, freeing his throbbing erection and pushing two fingers into Q, stretching him open painfully slow while listening to his cries, and moans and begging, _Please James, please, just take me, I need your knot, please, oh god please…._

He had never been a very patient Alpha, at least not when his Omega was making such sweet noises, with his scent driving James crazy and with his slickness around James’ fingers. He added a third and fourth finger, before gently leading the tip of his cock to Q’s entrance, pushing in anything but gently.

“I’m going to make you scream, Q”, James hissed, each thrust he did making the table squeek and Q moan loudly, probably loud enough to be heard outside, “And I’m going to make you come without touching you.”

Q could only moan and scream as James hit his prostate, making Q come all over the table, clutching deliciously around James and sending him off the edge too.

Panting, they stood there, sealed together by James’ knot, Q’s legs weak and wobbly but he managed.

“Why are you early?”, James asked breathlessly, panting into Q’s ear quietly, “Because of the bonding?”

Q only nodded, head resting on James’ shoulder. “Because of your bloody, high and stubborn Alpha pheromones.”

James chuckled, kissing Q’s neck, the bite mark he had left a week ago after their bonding, out of Q’s heat. “Shut up.”


	98. Chapter 98

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> placeofold asked: "Are you still taking prompts? Q is in an non--spy related accident or situation (bank robbery, train crash, *I can't thing of any others, my brain is mush, but I'm sure your idea will be awesome!*), and Bond talks to him through his headset while racing to find/help/save/be near him. Thanks!!"

“James, they are complete imbeciles!”, Q hissed quietly, keeping his head down so no one could see that he was talking and try to investigate to whom.

_“Q, I don’t think you are supposed to insult them in such a situation.”_

Q snorted, squirming until he was completely hidden behind one of the desks, hidden from the view of the thugs inside the bank, trying to rob it.

He had seen better robberies in action movies, and that certainly wasn’t a compliment for the four - he had seen the one trying to hide from view, really, incompetence like he had never witnessed before.

Three men, one woman, all masked with those party masks of animals people wore for carnival, two rifles, a handgun and something which probably was supposed to be a silencer but he wasn’t sure, for him it looked like a metallic burrito.

“They are trying to appear threatening”, he sighed in annoyance, “It’s pathetic. Now they are walking around and shoving the barrels into people’s faces to scare them.”

_“Hide your earpiece when they are close to you.”_

“I planned on doing that anyway, but thank you James.”

He could hear a chuckle through the earpiece, someone running and cars in the background. _“Glad to be a help, Q._

“I don’t need to be saved, James, they probably don’t even know how to fire a gu-“

One of the thugs shot at the ceiling, dust raining down and making Q sneeze. He cursed under his breath, because now they knew that he had been hiding from their view.

_“Q, are you alright?”_

“Yes, yet. I have to stop talking, they found me.”

Outside, the sound of sirenes and the police was audible, loud shouting and footsteps. Q sighed, rolling his eyes. Professionals my arse, he thought, being dragged to the rest of the group of poor, frightened civilians, a child and an old lady whose body was shuddering in fear.

Q wanted to say that they would be alright, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because the child had pissed on the floor and it smelled.

_“Q, I’m outside. They won’t let me in, so you have to wait until the police gets inside. How many are there?”_

Poor James, he had to communicate with people less experienced and capable than he was, who probably didn’t care that he was MI6 because it was their chance to rise and shine. Q felt like being in the wrong movie, and his migraine did not help at all.

“Four, one in the offices in the back”, he mumbled, lips barely moving, one of the thugs staring at him as if she was trying to figure out if he was doing something or not.

It was Q’s luck that the child began to scream as he spoke, and they could not hear him.

_“They’re going in. Heads down.”_

The sound of shooting and screaming made Q sigh, he reached out into his pocket, took out a pill and swallowed it dry before standing up, ignoring how a police officer told him to stay down until the situation was cleared.

Outside, James was waiting behind a bunch of police cars, tension leaving his body as he saw Q walking out, amused from the annoyance visible in the Quartermaster’s face.

“Well, how was it, seeing civilians work?”

“Oh shut it, you’ll be lucky if I ever leave my office again, the risk of being held hostage by idiots is too high.”

James followed as Q walked away, muttering curses under his breath.


	99. Chapter 99

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Aaaaand another prompt: Q is touch-starved and to proud to look for comfort or touches anywhere. But Bond notices that Q leans slighly into hus touches or lingers always a but longer then necessary. Somehow Q doesn't even realize it. Fluff and happy ending please? Thanx a million!"

James began to wonder about Q’s childhood quite early, but not because of his obvious tendency to make things to boom and live with nothing but tea, coffee and the occasional biscuit in his system.

James figured that Q’s parents had been cold, and that he never had have someone to just touch him, to hold him and not want anything from him in return.

Subtle signs were what made James think that, subtle enough for anyone else to miss it, but for someone who got paid to notice everything, it was clear and visible like the lines in a book.

The first time he had hugged Q, he hadn’t noticed it. He had felt Q’s body melt against his, the younger man’s head dropping on James’ shoulder, arms around James and chests pressed together, not a single gap between them.

He had felt the glimpse of something, had seen something sparkle in Q’s eyes as he had pulled away, something dull and bleak and sad.

The first time they had kissed, Q’s lips had lingered on James’ longer than necessary, as the elder had already pulled away, the last brush of lips before Q too leant backwards, this sparkle back.

Always too quickly over for James to realise what it was, but always there long enough for him to realise that there was something.

Every time they touched, Q tried to make it longer, if conscious or not. He let his arms slide off James’ neck slowly, made sure that every inch of skin had been in contact with James’. Every time they were in bed, skin against skin, tongues dancing lazily, he let his hands trail over James’ skin, taking everything in, the ghost of a smile curling the corners of his lips up.

He didn’t seem to realise it.

One day, Q seemed to be particularily down. They hadn’t seen each other in a month, James off to Vietnam, Q in Q-branch all day, monitoring, only returning home after Eve forced him by simply cutting the connection of his laptop to the electricity network of the HQ.

He looked tired, exhausted, and there was this dullness in his eyes James came to take as the first sign of a bad mood.

He wrapped his arms around Q instead of saying any word of greeting as he returned to their flat, pulling Q down on the couch and just holding him close, caressing his hair and kissing his forehead.

Q leant into the touch, eyes fluttering closed, tension fading.


	100. Chapter 100

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "OMG. You´re fantastic. I would love you if you write me one were Bond takes Q v-card in a drunken stupor and Q is all calm and okay about it the day after, even when he couldn´t even get out of bed. ;)"

“Please tell me I didn’t do anything.”

“That would be a lie, James”, Q mumbled and turned around to lie on his stomach, a sharp intake of breath the only indicator of the pain he felt.

James sat up, blinking against the headache he felt, a groan leaving his mouth as he opened his eyes completely. Too bright, too light, and his head was killing him - he must have been terribly drunk, Bond assumed.

Only now his glance fell on Q, and he felt like slapping himself.

His backside was red. Bruises and even teeth-marks on his shoulder, bruises formed like fingers on his hipbones, and dried come on the inside of his thighs and his stomach, from the angle James looked at this part of Q’s body.

Added to the sated feeling inside James, and the scent of sweat and sex in the air, it wasn’t hard to tell what he had done and why he thought that a slap might not be enough punishment.

“Have I hurt you?”, he asked quietly, reaching out carefully to trail the bruises on Q’s body, trying to remember everything of their and Q’s first time of sex, “I am sorry, Q, I did not…”

Q only grunted, patting at James’ hand to make him stop, but the agent only smiled weakly and continued, a shudder running down Q’s spine.

“You’re supposed to be hungover, why are you talking…”, Q whined, taking the sheets to pull them up his body, so easily cold, always freezing, James thought affectionally.

“Because I took your virginity while being drunk, Q. That’s not exactly how you imagined it to be, is it?”

Q hummed, turning his head towards James.

His hair was stuck in weird angles, sex hair how some people called it, and there was a deeply satisfied sparkle in those green eyes which made the agent frown and reach out to bury his fingers in those curls.

“It was wonderful, James. I doubt I can leave the bed for a day because damn, you are quite harsh, but it was wonderful. I could not have asked for a better first time.”

“I was drunk.”

“And I didn’t knock you out, so shut up, I allowed it, and let me sleep.”

Q turned over, hissing in pain and wincing, burried his face in the pillow and huffed. James smiled and got up, deciding to make tea.


	101. Chapter 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt: Q suffered an abusive relationship before getting together with Bond and old habits die hard"

There was the noise of something breaking, porcellain, glass, maybe a plate or Q’s glasses.

James got up from the couch, keeping his muscles tensed and ready to attack and protect if his instincts were wrong and the window had been broken - He had told a dozen times that it was a security gap but the younger man loved to look down at the city when they were eating breakfast or dinner - or Q surprised and attacked.

Q had always been adorably clumpsy, but he tried his best to not break plates every day they had time to eat at home, or tried not to slip when the streets were icy and frozen - he tried too stubbornly and concentrated, like he knew better than to let something happen.

James found him in the kitchen, trying to pick up the shards of something which once had been a plate, each visible so he probably would try to glue the pieces together again, like he had tried with the glass he had broken two weeks ago.

“Are you alright, Q?”, he asked, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, bare feets cold on the tiles.

Q looked up and let three shards fall down as he saw James, eyes widening and hands starting to shake.

He jumped on his feet and backed away from James, bringing the table between himself and the agent who frowned, taking a step forward to the one Q took backwards.

“Q?”

The Quartermaster’s eyes were shining - Tears, James realised, heart skipping a beat, Q is fighting off tears - and his eyes so huge, so terrified, and the slender body shook from fear. Q was afraid.

James risked a glance over his shoulder, but nothing and no one was there, no threat, nothing to be afraid of.

It was only that Q took another step backwards, back hitting the wall, that James realised he was afraid of him.

Q was afraid of him.

“Q, what is wrong, please-“

“Please don’t hit me”, Q whispered out of a sudden, a few teardrops running over his cheeks, something alike a sob leaving the younger man’s mouth, “Please don’t hit me, I-I didn’t mean to… to break the plate… please don’t hurt me.”

James stopped in every motion, blinking.

They had never talked about their past lives and relationships, not much at least. Q knew of the tendency of James’ past lovers to die a cruel and brutal death, and James knew that Q’s last relationship had not ended well, that much they had confessed to each other early at the beginning of what they had.

James had always noticed that Q had scars, plenty actually, but he never talked about why or where he had them from, and James only made sure to kiss each when they made love with each other in bed or wherever they wanted.

He had always noticed that Q was jumpy, and that he couldn’t stand the noise of a belt being undone and the metal part hitting the ground, a stupid reaction he had told James, but suddenly it was clear and he saw why, and the thought made him angry and furious, but he fought it off because the last thing Q needed now was to see anger.

“I would never hurt you, Q, you know I cannot hurt you nor stand the thought of being the reason for your pain”, James mumbled softly, taking a step forward, relief rushing through him as he saw that Q did not flinch away.

He reached out and offered his hand to Q, who took it after a minute of hesitation.

“I’m sorry for making you think that I could, I’m sorry for not having seen it earlier”, James wrapped an arm around Q’s waist and pulled him close, knowing that he enjoyed this kind of contact, “I’m sorry for everything that happened to you, and I promise you I will never hurt you.”

He pulled Q into a hug, ignoring the sting of pain he felt in his chest as tears soaked his shirt, slender body in his arms shaking in suppressed sobs and trauma.


	102. Chapter 102

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Q finds a bouquet of flowers on his desk one day...? :3"

There were flowers on Q’s desk.

No robotic, metallic flowers, that he would have understood, a new experiment, maybe a flower made to be hidden in an agent’s pocket, serving as a radio or being able to spray poisonous gas or a transqualiser out of the blossoms.

But those were real flowers, smelling, living, colourful flowers, and they were on Q’s desk.

He was no expert in flowers, but he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that someone would just put flowers on his desk without a card or a hidden meaning and besides, he had always wanted to learn something new and unique, and the language of flowers certainly was.

He went into MI6’s private book room, when an agent had to wait for a mission, when the internet was down and they needed information, or when someone wanted to snog their partner senseless and not be caught they went here, and searched for a book about flowers, but of course there was none there.

He then tried to find a minion who had an idea what this was about, if anyone had seen who the person behind the flowers was, but they only shook their heads like terrified cats and continued to work.

For once he needed the internet, and it was down. Virus, lock-down procedure, whatever.

So Q went out, into a flower shop, and asked for help.

It turned out that the yellow flowers were called Chrysanthemum, and stood for a secret admirer, while the other yellow flowers were Hibiscus and represented delicate beauty. There were red ones, a declaration of love, and the violet ones Forget-me-not’s, and their meaning was obvious.

Someone was flirting with Q.

Someone brought him flowers, put them on his desk and made him run around the city to find out what it meant.

He hated to admit, but it was cute.

xx

The week after this, he returned from the kitchen to find Bond sitting on his desk, a tiny bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Red roses, three, and forget-me-not’s.

Q rolled his eyes, took Bond’s tie and dragged him into the office, locking the door behind them.

If the minions noticed the way his cardigan was slightly inaccurately worn, and his hair ruffled, they did not comment.


	103. Chapter 103

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hello, I'm a really big fan of your writing :) I was wondering if you had gotten my earlier prompt asking for a high school au, where Q is the captain of the computer or robotics club, and Bond is one of the best athletes, or maybe a loner who gets in a lot of fights? Just cause I sent it to you yesterday, but you said you finished all the prompts. I apologize if I'm bothering you :("

"Care to tell me what you are doing here, Bond?"

 

Q did not look up from the keyboard he was working on, most keys taken out and carefully sorted on the table he was sitting on, hands dirty with the substance he used to clean the areas beneath the keys, freeing them of dust and crumbs from an idiot having eaten while working.

“I’m watching you.”

Q huffed and looked up, raising an eyebrow at the elder.

Bond was sitting at his usual spot on the desk Q usually used, the other students ignoring him like usually, only Q bothering to try and make him go away.

He told himself he was trying, but he wasn’t really, if he was honest with himself. He enjoyed the tiny fights he had with Bond, and how concentrated the blue-eyed man was watching him work.

“Who are you hiding from this time?”

“M.”

Q rolled his eyes, putting the keyboard down again and beginning to put the keys in, not saying anything for a few minutes. “So you got into a fight and now you are hiding here from her?”

Bond flashed him a toothy smirk, eye lightening up - the other was swollen from a black eye, but Q still could see the blue iris and how the pupils were fixed on him. Those eyes should be illegal, he thought, Bond had to wear contact lenses, this could not be real.

No one had such blue eyes.

“You are staring at me, Q.”

Q blushed, his cheeks heating up and the pink colour spreading out to the tips of his ears. Bond chuckled and jumped off the table, approaching Q.

“I’ll see you later”, he said, ruffling Q’s hair before disappearing.

Q stared after him, not hearing how one of the students cleared his throat. He noticed only then that everyone was staring at him with a grin, and the blush got deeper.

“Do cease staring at me”, he hissed, tucking at the shirt of his uniform, “Did you get through the security of the school server?”


	104. Chapter 104

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shipimpala asked: "hi. please, continue to 'Prompt: Q suffered an abusive relationship before getting together with Bond and old habits die hard'. thank you <3"

“You don’t have to treat me like a glass puppet, James.”

It was hard to hear Q’s voice over the noises the movie they watched was making, his voice barely above a whisper and hoarse from the tears he had shed for about half an hour.

They were on the couch, Q wrapped into blankets since he was deadly cold, James next to him with an arm wrapped around Q’s shoulders. He could still feel him shiver under his touch, if only from the coldness, or from a trauma broken free and clawing at his sanity.

“Excuse me if I worry about my partner, you could have told me.”

Q made a snort-like noise, head dropping on James’ shoulder and his body squirming closer, with the slender, tiny frame curling against James’ side like a cat.

“I saw no reason to.”

“What if I would have done something to scare you away, Q? I don’t want to hurt you, neither physically nor psychologically”, James said softly, fighting against his inner demons wanting him to go and track this bastard down to rip out each of his fingers and hairs one by one, “I wouldn’t have-“

“You wouldn’t have what”, Q interrupted him, trying to glare at James but it wasn’t impressive with red, swollen eyes from the tears, “You have done nothing, James. I overreacted, that’s all.”

James took Q’s hand, turning it around. At Q’s palm, there was a scar, in the shape of something long and solid, a belt maybe, or something else having been used to hit him.

There were so many scars on Q’s body, so many signs and reminders of what had happened to him. James wanted to ask so many questions, he wanted to know who and why and how, but Q wasn’t in the state to answer and James didn’t want to force him to do anything.

“You didn’t overract, you… this is not your fault, Q. You don’t have to tell yourself that everything is your fault and that you can blame yourself. Something bad happened to you, you tried to forget it and now it’s back.”

Q was silent, and James knew he had hit a vulnerable spot.

He titled his head and pressed a kiss on Q’s forehead, sighing into the hair.

“It was not your fault, Q. Someone did something wrong with you and something terrible happened to you, and I swear to you, I’ll make it better.” He paused. “I’ll fix it.”

“Says the broken alcoholic”, Q muttered, but there was affection in his voice, and he sounded less traumatised than before.

James smiled, nudging him closer. “Yes, two broken people can fix each other. I take my shards and fill the gaps between yours, and together we built a whole.”


	105. Chapter 105

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "hey. sorry to bother you, but i sent you a prompt, like, two days ago, i think, and i was wondering if it had got lost, or something. it was that bond cries in front of q, and q's never seen him cry, before, and is really scared, but manages to comfort bond. i really am sorry to bother you."

Q returned home from work to find Bond in the living room, tears streaming down his face, dropping down on the couch and into his glass of some alcohol, the scent biting and making Q tear up, probably vodka or scotch, or maybe both.

The alcohol wasn’t the reason he dropped his bag next to the door, threw his jacket down on it and carefully approached his lover, no.

The alcohol only made the worry inside him feel like boiling heat, a cramp of his lower belly.

It made it worse, if anything.

He had never seen James cry before, he had honestly thought that a man like James Bond did not cry. That he drowned all sadness, grief and despair in alcohol, burried them beneath pills and missions, never facing them, always running.

He was wrong, apparently, because a very real James Bond was sitting on their couch, eyes red and puffy, and cheeks shining wet in the light falling on him.

In all this sadness, in all this worry and fear about the reason for the tears, Q noticed how blue James’ eyes appeared, how they were like emeralds shining out of the darkness, so bright and shining that he felt like they were haunting them.

And now they were fixed on him, James’ expression blank and as cold as usually, but the tears still were running and the grip around the glass would have broken bones easily.

It was a wonder it hasn’t broken yet.

Q had no idea how to proceed, what to do or what not to do, should he approach Bond or would he end up being pinned down on the ground with hands closing around his throat?

“James?” A tiny sniff, finally movement in James’ body as he tried to wipe the tears away and hide every bit of emotions behind carefully built masks inside his brain. “James… a-are you al-lright?”

No response, but he wouldn’t have expected one. Q slipped out of his shoes and sat down next to James, hesitantly wrapping his arms around the elder, expecting to be pushed away.

But no, James lowered his head on Q’s shoulder, his tears soaking the fabric of Q’s cardigan as he held his lover, just was there and tried to offer comfort in a situation so grotesque and wrong that he wanted to shake James and make him stop.

James eventually doze off, either from the alcohol, the lack of sleep or because he was tired, Q couldn’t tell.

But as the elder woke up again, neither of them mentioned what had happened.


	106. Chapter 106

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Four years ago, the youngest Holmes brother vanished, seemingly from the face of the earth. Then Sherlock and John intercept a blond, blue eyed man who has a very familiar voice driecting him in his ear."

_“Double-oh-seven, report. What is going on, you haven’t moved from the spot since four minutes. I repeat, double-oh-seven, tell me what the fuck you are doing or I’ll let you sleep on the couch for more than a week.”_

James sighed, but didn’t move any other muscle of his face, unblinkingly staring into the man’s eyes in front of him.

He knew that he probably should have answered Q, to tell him that he was doing fine and that nothing was going on, only two men who were keeping him from leaving the flat - he had only put on a new, not-torn apart suit without blood on it - and go to MI6 to report about the mission he just came home from.

Home as in Q’s and his flat, and home as in what the bloody hell were those strangers doing here, how did they even manage to get inside?.

“Matching DNA, do keep up”, the blackhaired-one huffed in annoyance, turning around in a swirl of his coat and beginning to move around the flat, picking up the cup of tea Q has left on the table this morning, sniffing on it. “Earl Grey. John, he must have been here.”

He turned to Bond, approaching him with quick steps and staring at him coldly. “Where is my brother.”

“Brother? I don’t know what you-“

__

“Please tell me that the man I’m seeing over the security camera isn’t accompanied by a short, blond-haired man with a jumper on and with a gun hidden underneath his jacket.”

For a moment, there was silence in the room. The black-haired man stared at Bond, his ear to be precise, Bond at the man behind the one in the coat and said at the former.

__

“Bond, that’s my brother. What is he doing there…?”

Within a second, James had taken out his gun, barrel pressed against the forehead of Q’s brother, another one he had within his reach aiming for the blonde’s forehead, the man just having been about to pull his own gun in surprise.

Soldier, from the way he immediately lifted his hands, face cold and concentrated, fascinating.

Q’s brother had a soldier-companion, whatever that meant. He himself couldn’t be that dangerous, far too skinny to be a challenge, just like Q.

He blinked once. Exactly like Q.

He really was his brother, elder obviously.

“Care to tell me how your brother managed to find out where you live?”, James asked into his earpiece, ignoring how Q’s brother pursed his lips in something close to anger, eyebrows narrowed, teeth gritted, “And please, before he tries and bites me.”

Q sighed over the earpiece, noise of something being put away and a chair being dragged across the floor audible. James frowned.

“I can deal with the situation on my own, Q, you don’t have to come here.”

__

“I do. Because if Sherlock is here, then Mycroft soon will follow, and believe me, you do not want to deal with both alone. I’m on my way. Tell Sherlock not to deduce your past, we wouldn’t want you dead.”

With that, the connection broke, and Bond was left alone with the two strangers, one who probably was called Sherlock, and the soldier.

“Well, gentlemen, I’d like to know how you found this address, because it is supposed to be protected and secure.”

Sherlock, apparently, huffed, a very arrogant and annoyed noise, James realised. “Mycroft found it. Why did you call him Q, his name does not start with Q, and there is no reason to unless…”

Sherlock frowned, something sparkling in his eyes, something mad and crazy. James took a careful step backwards, slowly lowering his guns. No need to shoot Q’s family, as annoying as the man already was.

“Unless… of course, that’s why he disappeared. Because he’s working for MI6 now, doesn’t he? That does explain why he called you double-oh-seven, and why you have an earpiece, standart radio version.” Sherlock glared at James, tried to burn holes into his head. “My brother is the Quartermaster. Of course.”

James turned around and walked into the kitchen, taking out a bottle of scotch. He was too sober for a conversation like this.


	107. Chapter 107

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "i've read all your ficlet in ao3 and it's so great last night i couldn't stop read them. anyway i got a prompt : kid!fic with parent!Bond and parent!Q where they're married (to each other of course) with fluff.. (and implied mpreg if you don't mind). thank you :)"

“I don’t think that you should be that skinny again only a year after your pregnancy, Q.”

Q only huffed, reaching out to their daughter who was crawling over the floor, blond-ish hair stuck in weird angles, and green eyes lit up in joy and happiness only a child could possess.

She squeeled and grasped Q’s hair, tucking on it. James sat down on the couch, taking off his jacket and throwing it over the backrest of the couch.

“You know how quickly I loose weight, especially now that I don’t want to eat cupcakes all day”, Q smiled, tickling Lydia and making her laugh, bubbles in her mouth, “You and your sweettooth, my sweet baby…”

“You ate cupcakes before you were pregnant, Q”, James smiled softly at his family, still not being able to actually accept that this child was his, and that the wedding band on Q’s finger was the same one James wore on his own.

“Yes, but not as many.”

“Don’t be absurd, I hardly noticed a cha- there was no need to hit me with a pillow, Q. Absolutely none.”

Q stuck his tongue out and Lydia, always copying her father’s movements and mimics, stuck hers out too, James being confronted with two respectless children. One whose behaviour could be excused, one who should have grown-up by now.

“Yes there was, you were about to insult me. Me, your husband. That’s not tolerable.”

James raised an eyebrow, squirming closer until Q could gently guide Lydia into James’ lap, one of her feet on Q’s thigh, one on James’ as she stood. James put his hands on her hips to keep her steady while Q lifted her arms up above her head, both smiling fondly as she laughed in delight, waving with her hands towards Q’s cat.

“Well I am terribly sorry, love, I won’t do it again.”

James lifted his head, kissing Lydia’s cheek and then turning towards Q, watching him with a smirk.

“You will, James.” He stood up, taking Lydia into his arms, the girl’s automatically going around Q’s neck to stay up and not fall down. “Are you hungry? I’ll order some food and bring Lydia to bed, and we can enjoy the evening.”

Lydia made grabby hands towards James as she was brought out of the room, and James leant back against the couch, with a smile.

Maybe it was his time to retire, he thought, or she would be an adult before he could blink.


	108. Chapter 108

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theeviltocome asked: "Hello! This is my very first ask but I do love your last prompt, with mpreg. If you have time, can you write another ficlet where Q have to tell James he is pregnant? I love your blog and your writing so much, thank you and sorry for my english again."

James had probably already figured it out, he was James Bond, he noticed everything.

Not that it was visible, he didn’t show yet, but he was faintly sure that his partner would figure it out anyway. His fiancée, Q thought with a glance on the wedding band, wondering if Bond would take back his proposal and leave Q.

He didn’t know how James would react. He honestly had not a single idea, it could go either ways. He could be happy - unlikely - he could freak out, he could leave Q - the most likely one, and on his way back early from work he tried to prepare himself for it.

How did you tell your fiancée that you were pregnant?

How did you tell your partner, the most dangerous man in the world, that you were pregnant with his child, in a world in which a child only brought problems and would be a high security risk?

How did you manage to not freak out and begin to panic at the sheer thought of being left alone, and of being rejected?

Q had absolutely no idea, and the ten minutes of googling he did in the cab - he figured taking the tube when being pregnant - did not help a single bit.

James was at home after a mission, not yet cleared for field work again after a nasty wound on his shoulder at almost the exact spot he had been wounded at Skyfall, and Q knew he had heard him come in.

James was laying on the couch, sprawled out like an overly lazy cat, and Q detached himself from any emotional worry, fear or pain, and decided to just say it.

Better get it out now before Eve, who Q had bought a test with in an emotional state of worry and this cannot be happening, no, could tell him and then the situation would be worse.

“You are early”, James noted, sitting up slowly, “Is something wrong?”

“No”- Yes, everything is wrong and I am sorry for destroying our marriage before it even could happen, but- “I’m pregnant.”

Not many people being alive could say that they had seen James Bond shocked beyond words, no snarky comment, no smirk or faked emotion, just a blank expression, widening eyes and disbelief written on James’ features.

“Did you do tests?”

Disbelief, making sure that it was true. Q took a deep breath, wrapping an arm around his flat stomach, trying to imagine it being swollen and round from a baby within, growing and living and holy shit there is a living creature inside my body.

“Yes. Three. All positive”, Q sighed, taking a step forward as James stood up, “James, I-“

He saw movements from the corner of his eyes, and saw how James left the flat, grasping his jacket on the way outside.

Q sank down on the floor, not crying, only sobbing.


	109. Chapter 109

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "NO DON'T BE EVIL I AM NOW PROMTING YOU TO WRITE A HAPPY ENDING TO THAT. DAMMIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME I NEVER READ MPREG. THEY WERE HAPPY IN THE OTHER ONE NOW MAKE THEM HAPPY. please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also for:
> 
> "WHAAAT ! No ! You cannot do that ! You cannot stop your last fic (mpreg) with Bond living the flat and Q like that ! Come on, you sadist, give us more ! Thank you ! ;)"
> 
> _and_
> 
> "Oh, God. Please continue to mpreg one, where Bond leaves, and Q starts crying. Pretty please make it a happy ending. ):"
> 
> _and_
> 
> "God damn it! Stop it with all the angst!!!!! Please finish the prompt where Q tells Bond he is pregnant and make it a happy ending! PLEASE!!!!! DDDD: I love your writing but I can only handle so much angst!"
> 
> _and_
> 
> "you are such a wonderful writer, could continue that mpreg prompt from where james leaves because you might have just caused my tiny heart to break with that ending :( ? x"
> 
> _and_
> 
> "Nonono, can you take that pregnant!Q prompt and make it ok, please? Pretty please?"
> 
> _and_
> 
> "Hellow. Could you please write continuation for prompt “(…) If you have time, can you write another ficlet where Q have to tell James he is pregnant?(…)”. Thank you so much!"
> 
> _and_
> 
> "I really like your prompt about Q telling James that he is pregnant. Can you continue this? ;)"

Q didn’t know how long he sat on the ground, but eventually his back started to hurt and he had to get up from the suddenly cold rug, the entire flat dark, lonely, and everything laughing at him for being stupid enough to hope for a happy ending for himself and James.

For himself, James, and the child, which now would have to grow up without a father, Q assumed, worrying his lower lip between his teeth until it was bloody and he could taste it in his mouth.

He had no idea what to do now.

He couldn’t be a single father, and he couldn’t work together with Bond seeing him almost every day at the HQ or monitoring him knowing that his child was in the flat and Bond did not give a bloody fuck.

What should he do? Abortion….

No. Q shook his head against the thought, wanting to smack it with the tiles in their bathroom until it would whimper and whine and beg him to stop.

He would keep the child, no matter what. He would rather give up his position and stop working for MI6, if only to care for his child. That probably was what he would have to do - the risk of a babysitter being hired by an organisation to hurt and damage Q through his child was too high.

Already give up after hardly a year of being the Quartermaster, he was anything but the smart genius at MI6, the youngest Quartermaster ever, and the first being stupid enough to fall for James bloody Bond, think about marrying him and starting a family life.

Q felt the sudden urge to hit his head against the wall, but instead he took out his phone and called Eve.

She was there five minutes later, with a kettle of warm, boiling water and tissues Q actually needed now, the tears running over his cheeks and making him sniff and bury his face in her shoulder as she hugged him tightly.

“I’ll kill the bastard for you”, she mumbled, stroking Q’s hair, “I’ll shoot at him and this time I won’t miss, you can believe me.”

“No, I… I still love him.”

“Oh god Q, forget him. A man who leaves his pregnant partner behind doesn’t deserve your love. You’ll find someone better, someone who’s not an arrogant, self-loving, suicidal alcoholic with the tendency to play dead for months.”

Q sobbed, curling up at Eve’s side. “I… oh god, I have to stop working for MI6 and have to care for the child, and have to take some stupid work for some factory or have to try and feed my child without any money, and-“

The door was opened, silent, normally deadly and dangerous steps audible to even Q’s ears.

James was back, probably to get his belongings and disappear forever, or to make sure that Q would tell no one that he was pregnant.

No one could know about this child of double-oh-seven, people would loose respect and he had a reputation to uphold.

“Q?”

Eve let go of the Quartermaster and stood up, blocking Q’s body from the view James most likely would have from the doorframe, if Q had counted his steps correctly and had taken in his emotional state - angry, probably, disgusted.

“What do you want here, Bond?”

Q looked up and blinked, staring at Eve’s back. He had never seen her this angry, this furious like she was a mother-wolf, and protecting her little cubs.

Normally, an annoying thought, but right now it offered Q comfort in his desperate situation.

“I…” James Bond at loss of words, an enigma. “I… I’m sorry Q, I overracted. I should not have left and-“

“And?”, Eve’s foot tapped a melody on the rug, impatient, reminding Q of the explosives he had put into the heel for her, fear rushing through him for a moment.

“And please, I didn’t know what to do. I want you to know that I won’t leave you and the child, that I will stay with you and that I will care of you both, and…”

Careful steps towards Eve, who did not back away nor move the slightest bit. Q sat up and moved to the side, looking at Bond through puffy, red eyes.

“And…?”

“I love you, Q, I hope that one day you’ll believe me. I still want to marry you, and I want to try for you, I’m not good with children but I… I can try.”

Eve huffed and moved out off the way into the kitchen, not trusting the situation enough to leave completely.

“Stop behaving like a lovesick and kicked puppy and just kiss Q, bloody hell. That’s so out of character for you.”

James pulled Q towards him carefully, pressing a chaste kiss on the younger man’s temple, arms wrapped around Q’s waist and hands resting on his stomach.

Q smiled, and closed his eyes, melting into the touch.


	110. Chapter 110

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "HI! can you please write about Q being in an abusive relationship (with an intern or anyone) and Bond realizes it and he helps Q when he gets attacked by the person? Thanks!"

James usually prided himself with the fact that he saw everything, that nothing was a secret and that he was the best of the spies working for MI6.

He noticed a gun hidden under layers of skin. He noticed when someone hid something from him, when a woman was scared of her husband to use it for his attempts to seduce her and make her talk. He noticed when someone had poisoned his drink, and he noticed the differences between a custom made bullet and an ordinary one from the way the wound looked like.

But this, he had not seen, and it filled him with rage, hot and dirty shame, and the wish that he had been able to stop this earlier, but he .

He ran around the corner, breath coming out hard and forced, trying not to panic for once in his life, he was about to panic and worry.

And no trained control nor calmness could help him, because right now his Quartermaster was in danger and he had to stop whatever this bastard did to him before something could happen.

The bastard named Michael, working in H-branch, a doctor of all things, and an abusive bastard who hurt Q.

He was certain, he knew that Q was caught and caged in this relationship, he had seen the scars, the way he flinched when someone got too close, the way he always wore long-sleeved shirts and his cardigan, the way he got thinner and thinner and was already over the border to being underweight.

_The way he always said that he was fine, and always tried to smile and laugh, but James now knew that it was faked, and now that he did know, he had to help him._

There was no noise comming from the door of Q’s flat, no screaming, no shouting, not the sound of bones breaking or skin being cut open, but he would be a fool to believe that the walls weren’t soundproof and that nothing was going on.

His gut told him that Q was in danger, and his heart was racing, thoughts of what if he would be too late, what then?, filling his mind and making him kick in the door without a second thought.

No one in the entrance corridor, not a single noise comming from any of the rooms whose doors weren’t closed. Gripping his gun, James carefully glanced into every room to check that they weren’t in there, before stepping into the living room.

That was when he heard someone cry, and someone hiss abuse at said person. James knew that the crying person was Q, and his stomach turned and cramped violently as he ran towards the noise, the bedroom of course.

He kicked open the door, aimed for Michael’s head and was about to pull the trigger, but the scene in front of him made him freeze.

Q lay on the bed, face bloody, bruised and eye swollen, blood running out of his nose and his mouth, shirt ripped open and more bruises on his torso. The scent of alcohol lay in the air, thick and heavy, James could nearly taste it on his tongue and pursed his lips.

The bastard was drunk. An alcoholic, abusive boyfriend, what had Q got himself into.

Said man, whose not-swollen eye not directly glanced at James, made a noise of pain as Michael punched him in the stomach, breath being forced out of the Quartermaster’s lungs, the scream of pain making Bond see red.

He let his gun drop, then ran towards the bed and forced Michael off, easily being able to keep the doctor still. He knocked him out with a well-placed blow to the head, let the body hit the floor and then looked up at Q.

The Quartermaster tried to curl up into himself, sobs leaving his mouth and body shaking in pain.

It broke James’ heart.

Without thinking, he moved to Q’s side and wrapped his arms around the other, careful to not hurt him any further, and whispered soothing words.

To his suprise, Q did not flinch away, but burried his face in James’ neck and cried.


	111. Chapter 111

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tracionn asked: "I'd like to prompt some wing!00Q please. Something deep but not sad if that makes sense? Maybe their wings match or Q could never grow some but loves Bond's or one of them protects the other with his wings. Angel or AU or whatever is all fine. Would be amazing, thank you!"

Bond’s wings were bigger than Q’s would ever be, huge, reaching the ground with their tips and going far above his head; huge, beautiful, with a soft, blond-ish feathers, His primary ones were brighter than his secondary, and some feathers were missing, but they still were beautiful.

Q could only stare at them, though he had seen them so often already, silent and with his mouth being dry, his own wings fluttering in exitement he couldn’t show in his mimic.

His own were darker than Bond’s, somehow ironically, matching the colour of his hair, not as huge as Bond’s but still reaching the ground - you cannot imagine the annoyance there was picking dirt and gum out of the tips since they were dragged along the ground.

They are weak, Bond used to say with a grin, you are too skinny, of course yours aren’t that big.

Now that they stood in front of each other, staring into the other’s eyes, Q realised that there was another reason, and that he should have been able to see it.

Carefully stretching his wings forward, he let his primaries brush Bond’s, feeling a shiver run through each feather, through the bones, up his shoulders and into his head, making Q’s eyes go wide in surprise and shock.

People did not touch another’s wings, it was a rule everyone followed - later, Bond told Q that it was a common methode of torture to rip wings out, and Q felt sick.

Touching one’s wings was a privilege only for the partner, for one’s other half, and Q now realised that Bond was his and he had been here for so long. They could have been together for so long by now, they could have started a relationship months ago.

“There is no use in trying to think about what could have happened, Q”, James said almost softly, as if he could read Q’s mind - and maybe he could, Q thought, maybe they could, “There is absolutely no use in trying to change it.”

Q nodded, stretching the other wing forward to, another shiver rushing through Q and making him take a step forward, lost inside James’ eyes.

James took another step forward, and their chests were pressed together, wings somehow awkwardly against the other’s, but James spread his open to their full length and Q stepped closer.

Folding his, he felt James move his own around Q’s, primaries, secondaries - every single feather - touching. Q closed his eyes, and let his head drop on James’ shoulder, melting into the touch.

He could feel James relax too, wrapping his wings more tightly around Q’s, embracing him totally.

People said that a lover’s wings perfectly fit into the other’s. That they could stand together and touch the feathers, run their fingers through them, carress each, and Q believed them.

He had been with other men before, but it had never felt that good with somebody else.


	112. Chapter 112

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Do you accept prompts still? When yes this please? Q and/in his pyjama and Bond teases himbut actually finds Q strangly adorable in them. Maybe he even gives him some as a present or so? Thank you."

Q maybe should have put something on before opening the window, but this way, he faced Bond in his pyjama, shirt too big, trousers always slipping down his hips.

He should have seen it coming, Q thought, but now it was too late.

Bond’s eyes roamed over Q’s frame, smirk spreading out as he climbed in, one arm going around Q’s waist and the other caressing Q’s back.

“You really do a lot of damage in your pyjamas, Q”, he whispered, obviously highly amused. Q felt the urge to hit his head with something, and throw him out. “They are too big for you, dear.”

Dear. Q rolled his eyes, turned around and sat back on his bed, tucking himself into the duvets and putting his laptop back on his legs.

Bond, being the arrogant and snarky bastard he was, took off his shoes and lay down next to Q, trying to look at the screen even though he didn’t understand anything anyway. At least he shouldn’t, Q thought, but Bond was full of surprises.

“You look younger in them, almost underage”, Bond teased, leaning over to press a chaste kiss on Q’s cheek, “I should feel bad for wanting to take them off you, shouldn’t I?”

“Stop distracting me from work”, Q mumbled, reaching out to his mug, “And they don’t make me look younger.”

James smirked and reached out to Q’s laptop, but Q hit his hand to pat it away.

xx

Q had no idea how Bond had found out when his birthday was, classified information, but the morning Q came into the office, there was a large box wrapped into colourful paper sitting on his desk.

“Double-oh-seven brought it in”, Alexandra, one of the minions, said without looking up from the gun she was repairing, probably also from Bond, “He left it before heading up to M.”

“Did you check it for bombs?”, Q asked while poking the box with a finger, eyebrows narrowed in suspicion.

“No bombs. Should be safe.”

Q took it and carefully opened the box, ignoring how all his minions stared at him in interest, a few apparently having realised it was his birthday and trying to think about a surprise.

“BOND!”

Everyone flinched as Q jumped off the desk and ran away, box laying forgotten on the desk.

One minion stood up and looked into the box, starting to giggle.

Inside the box, there was a pyjama, dark-green with kittens on it.


	113. Chapter 113

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007-reporting asked: "Prompt: Sick!Q fluff as Bond is trying to make him feel better"

"Go away."

“No, Q, I won’t. Now open your mouth and take your medicine.”

“No”, Q whined, turning on his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. James sighed, and reached out to start caressing Q’s hair. “Go away.”

“I won’t, Q. How often do I have to tell you that?”, James somehow managed to turn Q around and stared into angry, glazed green eyes, “Take your medicine. For someone telling me to go to medical you are a hypocrite.”

“‘M not.”

Q sighed and opened his mouth, and James gave him a pill and some water to drink. James then pulled the blankets up, up to Q’s chin. He was far too warm, and James knew it was nothing but the flu, but he still was worried.

Maybe a bit too much, but his mother-hen-tendencies had to come out one day, and now he had a reason to worry.

“Sleep, Q.”

“Why?”

“Because you are sick and need to get healthy again, or else I won’t give you back your laptop.”

Q pouted, turning away from James again and putting the pillow over his head to hide like a little child. James smiled, and watched the tension leak out of Q’s body, how he fell asleep and doze off.

“Idiot”, James mumbled fondly, taking out the bowl of soup he had made earlier.


	114. Chapter 114

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Still taking prompts? If not, ignore. If you are, you hooked me on the wings! Could you write something like 007 and Q are on a mission together. 007 doesn't have wings and is surprised when Q blocks attack with his wings? Pretty please? :3"

Another bullet hit Q’s wings, making the younger man above Bond gasp in pain.

There was blood. So many blood pouring out of the wounds, out from in between the feathers, the primary and secondary ones darker now that they were soaked, a steady flow of the red liquid leaving a puddle on the ground where Q was kneeling in front of James, some already having turned his trousers red.

The men kept on shooting, kept on sending bullet after bullet towards the winged man, shouting in Chinese but too quickly and a too heavy accent for Bond to understand it.

Not that he would have wanted to, because all his attention lay on Q alone.

Q, the slender, fragile little Quartermaster with his messy hair, this ridiculous designer cardigan and the far too big glasses framing far too big eyes on a bony face, big eyes looking down on Bond with a calmness someone being shot at should not have.

So calm, determined, not a single sign of pain in his features.

Something… ultimate, conclusive.

“The moment I move, double-oh-seven, you can get away and run”, Q mumbled, and James wanted to scream and shake him until he would behave human.

This wasn’t his Quartermaster, the man who screamed like a girl the moment someone sneaked up at him from behind, not the man who flinched when he had not heard someone comming and was being spoken to by said.

This wasn’t Q. This was a man with bloody wings having appeared out of nowhere, a man whose wings now were wrapped around James to protect him from every shot, a man who should not be real but he was, James could feel his pulse from where Q’s hand lay underneath James’.

“You don’t seem to know me well enough, Q”, James said quietly, taking his gun out and making sure that he wasn’t seen, “I don’t run away. And I want an explanation, which you cannot give me if you are dead.”

Q titled his head to the side, as if to think about it, then gave a - weak - smile. “Fair enough.”

And, in the moment James jumped on his feet, Q swirled around, stretching one wing and knocking it right in one of the men’s face, the other one knocking him off his feet, a whirl of feathers and wings and his far too big coat.

James stared, and then proceeded to shoot the other men.

The moment they all were down, Q fell on his knees, then to his side, blood pouring out off his wings.

James lifted him up and brought him to H-branch by car, determined to get answers.


	115. Chapter 115

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sola1839 asked: "Pokemon AU. Why does this not exist yet? Po-ke-mon. ;) With Bond as a gym leader or champion or whatever and Q as a Pokemon researcher."

“Tell me, Q”, James said from where he was sitting in the grass, looking down at his gym behind the hill, “Why a Metagross?”

Said pokemon only glared at the human, floating a bit above the ground, with his red eyes, James’ pokemon - an Absol - directly underneath him sleeping lazily, her tail waggling without much enthusiasm.

“Because of its four brains”, Q answered and cracked an eye open, up to James who was sitting right next to him, their fingers twined, sun shining down with a comfortable warmth into their faces, “It’s like a super computer. I thought you would have figured it out by now.”

James huffed, shaking his head. “Only you would catch a pokemon who is known for its intelligence.”

“Better than one known as a summoner of harm.”

Absol opened her eyes and bared her teeth at Q, who only sighed and reached out to pet her head. She relaxed, something alike a purr vibrating from her throat.

“How is work doing?”

Q turned his head as he felt James’ glance upon him, green eyes meeting blue ones.

“We just got a list of the newly discovered pokemon. Someone found traces of an Uxie somewhere”, Q answered, closing his eyes again to bathe in the sunlight and not be blended, “I’ve been asked to travel to Sinnoh and help in the research, but-“

“But you don’t travel.”

Something in James’ intonation made Q sit up and look at him, something fond yet mocking. Narrowing his eyebrows, Q pointed with his index finger at James, Absol and Metagross watching in amusement.

“Listen to me well, James, you can stop mocking me or you’ll sleep in your gym tonight, understood?”

James laughed and pulled Q closer to his chest, pressing a kiss on his lips.

“You won’t.”

“I bloody will. Watch me.”

With that, Q stood up and turned around, Metagross following while pulling his four legs in to float properly, Absol whining as her protector from the sun went.

“Q!”, James laughed and got up to follow.


	116. Chapter 116

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: ":O The Pokemon AU was lovely and brief. Is it possible to get more?"

“Medicham, Fire punch!”

Q chuckled to himself as he watched how James rolled his eyes at the same moment Absol did, lifting his hand to hide it behind said.

Putting his book away, he continued to scratch Abra’s head, the psycho pokemon moving to sit on his lap, watching in interest as James did not even move a finger until the Medicham of this kid opposite to him on the field directly was in front of Absol, about to hit it.

It was the kid’s last pokemon, and James’ first. He always used Absol when he was annoyed and when he had no patience - actually, he always used Absol, so that had to mean something.

“Absol”, James finally said, and Q mumbled the next two words with him, James, always the same old show-off, “Razor Wind.”

Absol immediately moved, and within two seconds, the Medicham lay on the ground, and was defeated.

The kid got on his knees with a panicked scream of ‘No’.

James just sighed, ran a hand through his hair and then turned around to Q, bowing his head in a mock display of it was a pleasure to entertain you.

“Dinner?”, James asked as he walked towards Q, patting Abra’s head, “When will it turn to Kadabra?”

“When she’s ready, that’s when”, Q jumped off the large stone he had been sitting on, and called Abra back into its pokeball, “Yes, let’s go eat dinner. Can you leave the gym alone for a bit?”

Turning his head towards the still crying and traumatised kid, James nodded. “Let’s get going.”


	117. Chapter 117

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Are you still taking prompts? I'd love something where Q and Bond are dating and Q is asexual."

“I don’t know if I’m the happiest man alive or the most frustrated one”, James mumbled against Q’s neck as he held him close, moving them across the dance floor.

It was a rare sight to see Q in a suit, a rarer one to find him out in public without having been forced to.

“Why frustrated?”, Q asked and looked up, moving a bit away from James and to a more appropriate distance.

James almost pouted, but he was a grown-up man and did not do such a thing, so he put on his kicked-puppy look.

“You know why, Q.”

Q sighed and took a step backwards, but James held him close and even pulled him closer with a tilt of his head. There was a silent question in James’ eyes, but Q only shook his head and moved off the dance floor.

“Q?”

“If you want to back out of this, you just have to tell me”, Q said quietly as they sat down at their table, Q clasping his hands together in a nervous habit of his which made James frown and reach out to them automatically, “I know that I cannot give you what you want, I… if I’m frustrating then it makes no sense to try.”

“Your past boyfriends must have been arseholes”, James stated, and as Q said nothing but only stared at him, he continued, “Q, you mean too much to me to just back out of our relationship. I knew what I was in for, you told me at our first date, and I told you it won’t be a problem.”

“But you are a sexual person, James, I-“

James took Q’s hand, twined their fingers and lifted his hand up to press a kiss on it.

“I’d suggest you to not even finish that sentence in your head and come dance with me again”, James smiled that bloody adorable smile of his and pulled Q up, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I would never want you to change, you are perfect the way you are. You are asexual, and it’s fine.”

Q smiled, blinking away tears off joy.


	118. Chapter 118

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> b6690 asked: "OMG. You need to do more of that Pokemon AU. Maybe one where you show how Q and James first met. (A battle maybe, or something. And Q kicking James arse in a battle or something.) Thank you!!!!"

“Here to battle, kid?”

Q looked up from his book - A study in pokemons and their influence on a trainer’s personality - and raised an eyebrow at the gym leader, a man with blonde hair, blue eyes and an arrogant grin.

The kind of trainer Q wanted to shove a book into and make them learn and stop being this annoying, but that would require social interaction and he certainly did not want to converse with this man.

He had actually only been here to analyse the pokemon here and how they behaved in comparison to free ones of their kind, and he knew that this trainer owned an Absol which Q had not seen outside of a book yet, but now, he thought, he could as well fight against him.

He didn’t even want the bloody badge, he just wanted to show this man that he wasn’t a god.

“What else should I be here for?”, Q asked as he put down his bag, taking out a pokeball, “Admire your face and presence?”

Before the trainer could open his mouth, he had already lifted a hand to silence him, and raised an eyebrow.

“No, don’t even say it.”

Summoning his pokemon out, Q gave a tilt of his head, wondering how the other wanted to win when Q knew everything about a pokemon, from the way it fought, to the usual movements and every attack.

And indeed, ten minutes later he had won, the other’s Absol on the ground as Q called his own back into the ball, putting it away while taking his bag again.

“What is your name, kid?”, the gym leader asked as Q had already been about to turn around, but so he had to stop in the middle of the motion and face the trainer again.

“Q.”

The gym leader frowned. “That’s not a name. It’s a letter.”

“A letter I happen to be fond of. Can I go now or are you done flirting?”

Approaching Q, the gym leader offered his hand to him and smirked, Q felt his heart rate increase and a blush spread out his cheeks.

“The name’s Bond, James Bond.” Bond paused. “And I only just began. It would be rude to just leave when I’m not done flirting.”


	119. Chapter 119

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> silver-wingeddetective asked: "Are you still taking prompts? If not, ignore me. If so, can you try one where Q is diabetic. He's been working for hours straight and his sugar gets really low causing him to faint. 007 shows up when he's being helped to medical."

“What is wrong?”, James asked as he stepped into Q-branch, frozen at the spot as he saw how an unconscious Q was lifted onto a barrow by some minions James recognised as H-branche’s.

“His underlings reported that, before fainting, Q showed various symptoms leading us to the belief that he has not eaten enough, therefore not enough sugar inside him”, one replied, putting a pillow underneath Q’s head carefully, “Sleepiness, confusion and he drank an unusual amount of tea, therefore thirst.”

James frowned, it was so unlike Q to just forget to take his insulin or eat, after all the minions had promised to look after him.

But obviously, they had not.

Or else Q wouldn’t be laying on the barrow now, pale and unconscious. It wasn’t right, he usually ate enough once he realised he had to get sugar into his system.

“What now?”

“We’ll give him insulin, and once he wakes up again we’ll force him to eat.”

“Once.” James followed as they rolled Q away, some minions staring and whispering, others trying to keep on working to at least keep Q-branch as steady as possible without Q’s presence while he was away.

He was known to get very angry when they had a security breach just because he had gone to eat lunch, he had a strict Don’t you dare getting crumbs into this keyboard or I swear I’ll give you a nasty virus policy.

“And what if he doesn’t wake up? He has been in a diabetic coma once already.”

“He will wake up. He is breathing and we keep on controlling that he does not cease to do so”, the doctor smiled at him, her hazel eyes trying to be calming, “Don’t worry, double-oh-seven, Q will wake up again and you can scold him for his mistake as often as you want.”

Stopping to walk beside them, he watched how they rolled Q’s body away, his paleness making James worry for his health and sake.

xx

The moment Q woke up, he knew that he would get a lecture from Bond, he always did.

He had forgotten to eat, the day had been stressful, Q-branch full with explosives and they all had only managed to stay awake due to the amount of coffee and tea they drank, Q had not been an exception.

He should have paid more attention to his own symptomps, they had been rather visible, even a minion had asked if everything was alright.

Sighing, Q opened his eyes and turned his head, and as he had expected, James sat there with a large, sugary drink in one hand, and something to eat in the other.

“Wait until I have eaten, please”, Q mumbled as he reached out to the glass with one hand, drinking a large sip.

“You worried me, Q, what if-“

“Ah!” Q raised his index finger, not even looking at James as he did. “Wait until I have eaten.”


	120. Chapter 120

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smaragdskyar asked: "An extremely insecure Q. Maybe as in Bond coming on to him and he honestly does not understand why he wants him, and then some underlying self-doubt is revealed."

“Something is bothering you, Q.”

Q looked up from the ground, where he had just stared at his shoes in a fascination he did not have, just determined to not look at James and start to worry again.

Their date had been wonderful. Dinner in a restaurant, wine and canard and flirting having left Q’s face flushed in a pink blush for almost half of the dinner, and now they were walking to Q’s flat since James insisted to accompany Q home.

We wouldn’t want you to get hurt, do we? You are my Quartermaster, Q, it’s my job and responsibility to make sure you get home safe and secure.

Something about the way James had said my Quartermaster has left Q’s heart rate increase, and his blush get darker.

“How come you think that something is?”, Q asked after a few moments of just staring at James, memorising his face, the way he looked less troubled and more human now than at the HQ, more at ease with the world and himself.

“I’m a spy, Q, I’m paid to see through masks and attempts to hide something”, James said, stopping, “What is wrong? Is this going too fast for you? I’m only accompanying you home, Q, I do not expect you to invite me up into your flat and your bed – while I certainly would not say no.”

“It’s not-“ Q paused before he could say something stupid and sighed, running a hand through his hair as he watched his breath rise in a grey-ish cloud. “I’m just… why me?”

James looked taken-aback. “Why you? What do you mean?”

“Why me, James, why would someone like you want to date or have dinner with someone like me?”

Something alike anger ghosted over James’ features, and Q was ready to defend himself or take a step backwards, but then James’ mimic was as controlled as usually, the pleased, soft smile curling up the corners of his mouth and a scar directly next to one.

“Q, I don’t know why you apparently think you aren’t good enough or sexy or attractive or whatever”- Q opened his mouth to say something, but James lifted his index finger to Q’s lips and silenced him- “I don’t care what people before me said to you to make you this insecure about yourself. I consider your appearance as absolutely pleasing and of my liking, but that is not the reason I asked you to join me for dinner.”

Q raised his eyebrows. “But?”

“There is no but, Q. All I said is true, now come one, you are freezing.”


	121. Chapter 121

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Thank you! I'm the one who requested the Daemon fic and you wrote hat wonderful piece about lovers touching each other's daemons. I really hope you're still taking prompts. Q has a lot of scars and James wants to know how he got them."

Q fell on the bed next to James, chest rising and sinking as he tried to get his breathing under control again, eyes glazed and pupils blown to blackness.

His hair was all messed-up, sticking up in weird angles and there was come on his belly, some on his inner thighs and a bit at his mouth.

It was a beautiful, incredibly beautiful sight, but yet James could not focus on that, but let his eyes roam over Q’s body out of another, different reason.

There were so many scars on his lover’s body, too many for a young Quartermaster who didn’t go out into the field and who just designed the weapons, but did not use them. Some looked like cuts, others like marks from fire or heat, others reminded James of his own old bullet wounds.

Q’s skin was smooth, flawless but for his scars, and until now James had never asked because he never had wanted to know it. But right now? Well, people always talked a lot after sex – a weapon he used during missions each time – and Q wouldn’t be any different.

Besides, James had told him about his own as well, now it was Q’s time.

“Where does this scar come from?”, he asked quietly, fingertips trailing one on the back of Q’s right hand.

“Cut myself trying to use a knife to open a toy as I was five”, Q replied sleepily and patted James’ hand away as it went lower, right to his hip where another one was, and he stopped there with a tap on it, “Lover turned out to be an assassin and put a knife in my hip.”

James’ grip around his waist tightened. “Name and address?”

“Already dead.” Q sat up and rubbed his eyes, stretching lazily. “Most burning marks are from playing with explosives, some cuts from attacks, another one to get enough blood for a mixture-“

“-You cut yourself to get blood for an experiment?”

Q glared at him. “Not experiment. A mixture between blood and an antidote against poison, to see if it would be as deadly for a human as it was for the rat we tested it on.” As James raised an eyebrow, Q huffed. “Prototype. Now it does what it is supposed to do.”

“And that one?” James pointed at another burning scar, which looked like something heavy and burning had dropped down at Q’s back.

“From the explosion at MI6. Got caught by a baulk and only managed to get out by dislocating my shoulder.” He sighed at James’ confused expression. “I went through training.”

“That one?”

“Which one?” Q looked over his shoulder, looking at a bullet wound James was pointing at. “Ah. Someone broke into Q-branch and ran ammok. Got hit twice, I think.”

James pulled Q against his chest, arms tight around him and grip deadly for anyone but Q, never for Q.

“I’m tempted to lock you away and make sure you won’t get hurt”, James whispered into Q’s hair, kissing it gently.

“Don’t you dare.”

Q turned around in James’ arms, rested his head on the elder’s shoulder and closed his eyes, body melting against James’ as he fell asleep.


	122. Chapter 122

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I LOVE your prompt-fills over at ao3 and I'd love to see you give this idea a go: Bond finally realizing he's in love with Q! Bond on a valentine mission, but he can't get it up. When it happens the 2nd time, he freaks out that it might be his age. Back in Q-Branch, when he sees Q again after a long time, his little 'problem' solves itself and he has an epiphany :) (You can pick whether up to this point they're already an item or whether Bond never thought of Q that wa"

The moment James saw Q again, he wondered how he was supposed to tell Q that he had a problem.

And not only a tiny one, but one affecting him on a level he should not be attacked at. This was something horrible and embarrassing, and he gave a sigh as he approached Q’s desk, the Quartermaster looking up as he heard the footsteps.

“Welcome back, double-oh-seven, did you for once return all equipment?”

James smirked, leanig over until his nose was maybe an inch away from Q’s. “Ah no, actually I have not. But I returned in one piece, does that count?”

Q got up and rolled his eyes, gripping James’ tie to pull him along into his private office, secretly called ‘Poor excuse for a bed but a desk does the job too’.

The agent worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, before he caught himself and stopped it, trying to find the words to tell Q that he hadn’t been able to get it up the last time since they saw each other a month or two ago, a mission during which he had tried to seduce two women but had failed gloriously because of the unwillingnes to participate in the most important part of his body.

Q would laugh. He would certainly laugh, then turn away and leave, and maybe he would give in into 003’s attempts to win him over – the other was younger, less scarred and certainly capable of getting it up, he had repeated that over and over again.

But every excuse he had have on his tongue disappeared and faded out of his mind the moment Q pressed James’ back against the edge of the desk, straddling his lap and kissing him with enthusiasm he normally never showed.

Someone had missed him, James thought, automatically kissing back and beginning to undo Q’s trousers, feeling how the younger man already had a half-hard erection pressing against his pants.

With a smirk, James began to stroke said, getting moans of pleasure in return.

His little problem was forgotten, and only as he had burried himself deep in Q’s hole, he realised that it was gone.

James blinked and stopped in every motion, drawing a desperate whine from Q as he wanted penetration but didn’t get it. The elder almost felt sorry for him, but then he just had realised something and he was a bit shocked, if he was honest with himself.

“I love you”, he whispered eventually, feeling Q’s body going tense and stiff in surprise, the other’s eyes probaly widening in surprise. “I love you Q.”

Giving a short, hard thrust, he felt the tension leak out of Q’s body, and smiled, leaning down to kiss the other’s neck and leave a hickey for everyone to see.

“I love you too, James.”


	123. Chapter 123

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hi love your work I was curious if you had done one with Bond being really jealous over and old boyfriend of Qs who has returned and gives Bond competition for Qs affections angst fluff anger jealousy lots of angst would be hot the old boyfriend brings up old feelings Q hasnt felt in a long time and Bond feeling insecure"

As Q began to laugh and not do anything at Martin’s hand close to his, Bond could feel anger built up inside him, hot and dark and twisted, and he wanted to wrap his hands around this throat and twist it until it would break underneath his fingers.

But Q liked him. And James had a general rule about touching anything Q liked.

But right now, well, he really considered killing this bastard and take Q in his arms, possessive and it was his right to because Q was his.

James wasn’t a jealous partner, but he was possessive.

And this man was touching what was James’. And the worst was? Q didn’t seem to mind it, because he even edged closer as Martin squirmed a bit, their shoulders bumping together.

James gritted his teeth, and leant a bit backwards, just watching from an armchair as Q was being flirted at by an old boyfriend of his on _James’ couch_.

There were many things James accepted, but that was none of it and it hurt.

“Tell me, how have you been? It feels like ages since I last saw you, Ben”, Martin said and Q smiled, and James felt like throwing his empty bottle at the ginger’s head and make him shut up.

Stop flirting with my boyfriend, hands off. He’s mine.

“I’ve been fine, Martin, got promoted, a new flat, a new boyfriend”, at this he turned to look at James, smile growing a bit more stronger, and something inside James growled in satisfaction, “I’m quite confident, actually.”

Quite. James frowned. That did not sound good, and Martin seemed to pick up on it as well, because he moved closer, hand resting on Q’s knee.

“That does not sound honest, Ben.”

Ben, who shortened a name as beautiful as Benjamin to something as ordinary and common as _Ben?_.

And why did Q allow it, and even let him inside, why did James allow him to enter their flat and why the heck did he want to go and shoot someone?

“Why shouldn’t it be, Martin? I’m being honest”, Q turned his head, and his nose nearly brushed Martin’s cheek, “James makes me feel very happy.”

Martin looked at James, his eyes speaking more than he did, but it was enough for James to stand up and go into the kitchen.

Q looked after him in confusion, but laughed as Martin told him something apparently funny, and James didn’t think twice before climbing out off the window and get away.

Later that night, he came home drunk, fucked Q into the mattress and pretended not to feel something inside him howl in joy as bruises formed on Q’s back and hips, painful apparently, since Q nearly screamed out as he came.


	124. Chapter 124

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tracionn asked: "Hiya! I'm so sorry - I know you must have still like 50 prompts to go through but you can line this one here at the very end. Did you see mobilis69 latest drawing? The one with Bond's hand on Q's mouth? Hhhnfg. I'd love to read a scene to this. Please? No hurry at all!!! And thank you, again and again."
> 
> _Based on this picture: http://mobilis69.tumblr.com/image/40245723426_

“Open your mouth”, Bond mumbled and lowered his hand, fingers moving out off Q’s hair and stroked his cheek, over his chin and then up to his lover’s lips, “Only a bit, only enough to get a finger in.”

Q, eyes widened slightly and body tense in confusion and exitement about this, parted his lips slightly, and felt the tip of Bond’s finger invade his mouth.

He tasted of cigars, of alcohol.

His skin was cold, but quickly heated up above Q’s tongue, and rough, Q felt a scar as James gently pushed his finger further inside.

“Now there’s a good boy”, James said softly, free hand moving back into Q’s hair, stroking it gently.

Q felt his eyes flutter, but kept them open, glasses slipping down a bit from his nose.

James pushed it up again, hand cupping Q’s cheek.

Q tried to get used to the feeling, then hesitantly licked across the finger up to the tip, leaving wetness over it.

James’ breath hitched, hand tucking on Q’s hair in either encouragement or disapproval from the action without order.

But he did not complain, which Q took as a sign on its own, and did the same thing again.

He had never done something like that.

He had been around, had have his fair amount of sexual interaction and boyfriends in his university years, but there had been other ways of preparing the partner. If penetration would be done at all, which Q had mostly refused to do. It had hurt too much most of the times, but he didn’t worry that James would.

Somehow ironic, considering that the finger of the deadliest weapon in the world was inside Q’s mouth.

“Just do what you think is right, there is no way of doing it wrong.”

Oh well, Q thought, biting his finger off would certainly be wrong.

Or getting sick all over James’ suit should the finger trigger his gag reflex.

Q pushed those thoughts away and licked over the tip of James’ index finger, a wet, dirty noise drawn from it and accompanied by a silent moan by the elder.

He parted his lips a bit further, feeling James’ finger brush the inside of his mouth, his teeth and his tongue, slicked with Q’s salvia.

A while ago, Q had seen someone being given a blow job. Univesity party his room mate had forced him to, too much alcohol and too many idiotic people at one place. Q hadn’t been legal back then, so he had not drunken anything, and that way he could remember every single second unlike most of the others. It, actually, was quite fun to think about it with the knowledge that the guy who had vomited on someone’s shoes now was the head of a very known and successful company. Or the woman whose pants and bra had gone missing, she now was the woman of a lord or duke, Q couldn’t really recall it.

But back then, Q had seen a guy give another one a blow job in a corner, and this guy had hollowed his cheeks.

So Q did it too, hollowing his cheeks and moving his lips across the finger, not noticing as a second was pushed in or a third, or the way Bond’s trousers suddenly were too tight and not fitting perfectly anymore. He did not notice the lust-blown eyes staring down at him, still deadly and icy blue, but less cold now.

Heated, almost.

Q hummed, causing a vibration to go through the finger up James’ arm and right to the rest of his body, and Bond hissed, yanking his fingers out and pulling Q up, hands going under Q’s cardigan and shirt, warm hands on cold skin, always cold.

“I’m going to make you scream”, James mumbled, and Q did.


	125. Chapter 125

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Q talks in his sleep =)"

James blinked as he woke up for the fourth time this night, vision blurry for a moment, due to days without more than four of sleep, with work and explosions and no Q.

Q was in Britain, where he was supposed to be, safe behind his computers and screens locked away with his minions, and James in Spain.

It wasn’t that much of a distance, nor that much of a problem to find time to communicate with him - Q was the one monitoring him and the progress of the mission, after all, and late in the night they sometimes talked, and James even managed to triumph over his laptop and use the webcam.

Something else was wrong, something else was keeping James awake, and only now after four days he realised what it was.

It made him groan in annoyance and turn around, burrying his face in the pillow.

It was Q who was missing.

Not his presence next to James on the bed, the far too light weight of his slender frame pressing down the mattress on his side, curly hair sticking up in weird angles and face young and peaceful.

It was his talking.

James missed Q’s mumbled words in the depth of the night, whispers, muttering and sighs, sometimes complete incoherence and words without any sense or meaning.

Sometimes codes, the repetition of the numbers one and zero, all over again, and for James it was like Chinese backwards with a strange, foreign accent or Japanese.

But yet, he found himself missing it, turning his head to look over at the right side of the bed, where Q would be laying now, grumpy since James had forced him home to their flat and too sleepy to really protest, and found the emptiness and general lack of messy-haired, young computer-genius concerning.

Reaching out to his phone, he dialed Q’s number without really thinking about it, numbers burnt into his head and there, he would be able to call him dying, sleeping or with a temporary loss of his memory.

It was Q. He could never forget Q, not his kitten-like Quartermaster.

Q answered the call three point six seven seconds after Bond had pressed the green phone button, voice soothing and calming against James’ ear.

He pressed a button to turn the phone on speaker, then lay it on his chest, making himself comfortable on the bed.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I just wanted to hear your voice”, James smirked, voice flirty, “I am so terribly bored, and sleep seems like a waste of time without a geeky Quartermaster to hold.”

He could practically hear the way Q rolled his eyes, and closed his own as sleepiness waved over him.

“You sound tired.”

“I cannot sleep”, James sighed, “Could you do me a favour? Just talk. Think out aloud, or talk nerd with me, I do not care. Just talk.”

Q chuckled softly, voice barely louder than a whisper as he said: “Miss my voice?”

Bond grunted, slipping under the duvets again.

The noise of Q’s voice, as pure as an angel, as soft as his skin and as posh as Bond’s favourite wine washed over James, and by the time had just started saying One does not simply sleep without one’s Quartermaster in amusement, James had already fallen asleep.

Q listened to his soft breathing, looked at the red dot and smiled.


	126. Chapter 126

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mincamo asked: "I've been reading your tumblr fics on AO3 and I hope the requests are still open! I would love to read about Bond petting Q's hair while they're relaxing."

“You always have to do that, don’t you?”

“Mmh?”

James looked up from his book, reading glasses nearly slipping off his nose, eyes falling on Q’s body resting between his legs, shoulder blades against James’ chest.

It was a rare evening off for both of them, with close to no work for Q and no mission for James, both at home and both just enjoying their time together.

They even went out to dinner, and James had to smile as he remembered how adorably dorky Q had been, all embarrassed and stuttering, blushing and earning glances from women who probably had compared him to a kitten or a puppy.

Mother instinct, Q did not even know his body’s advantages and how to use them (luckily, Bond would have made him stop).

Subtly, of course.

“Doing what, Q?”

Q rolled his eyes, head turned into James’ direction and expression as annoyed as a relaxed Q could be. Like a cat hissing but still purring as it was petted.

This comparison actually fit quite well, Bond thought, burrying his fingers deeper in the long curls of Q’s hair.

It was soft underneath his fingers, he could spin it around his fingers and it would stay this way, all messy and yet combed. He had no idea what Q considered as combing, but it didn’t seem to be the same as everyone else considered it as.

“This. Petting my hair like I’m some kind of cat, which I am - in case you have not noticed it yet, which would leave me wonder how you survived being a spy for so long - not”, Q raised an eyebrow as James nearly snorted, “No, don’t start that again.”

James leant down to press a kiss into Q’s hair, the younger man sighing and relaxing again, body melting against James’ and the latter’s arm going around the slender waist, other hand holding his book up again.

“But kitten”, James teasingly whined, the sound more teasing than actually what he had intended it to be, “I did make you purr earlier.”

Seeing a blush spread out across Q’s cheek, James focused on his Russian translation of Hobbes’ Leviathan again.

It took him five minutes to start petting Q’s hair again, this time no comment coming from the Quartermaster.

No, actually, he leant into the touch, and smiled for a moment - James had seen it from the corner of his eyes, and his vision never betrayed him.


	127. Chapter 127

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hello, you perfect human being! If you are still taking prompts, can you write one where James likes to walk around naked an Q isn't used to that, even thoudh they ve been together for a while? Tank you :)"

The first time it had happened, Q had tried to find a logical reason for it, which he had quickly found.

James simply didn’t want to wear his clothes before showering, why if his skin was covered in dried sweat and come on his belly? At that moment, Q had believed that, had accompanied James in the shower and then both went to work.

The second time, Q was mildly confused, but tried to ignore it and just kept on reading the news on his tablet.

James would put on some clothes once he would bother going into the bathroom to shower, right? No.

No, James didn’t put any clothes on the whole day, which was weird for Q who sometimes only stared at James’ naked back as he sat down on the couch - nude, he sat down on their couch nude.

Q hardly felt the urge to clean every inch around him anymore, but his fingers had twitched and he had wanted to make James put something on.

The third time, Q tried not to look at him too much because he kept on blushing like a teenager and it was incredibly embarassing.

James was amused by all of it, and kept on doing things to make Q feel uncomfortable.

Like pulling him on his lap, naked, or wrapping his arms around Q from behind, pressing himself against Q’s back and knowing very well how it made Q feel… well, a bit flustered.

Or casually wanking watching Q on the couch, until Q would come over, make him stop and end up in bed with him.

Maybe it was James’ plan, and that was why he was walking around naked all the time in their flat.

Or maybe he just enjoyed doing so, because he always wore suits, so he needed something else - god forbid he tried something as ordinary as jeans or cotton trousers, or a shirt, jumper, anything.

A change in his life.

Q assumed it was the first option.

No, in fact - he thought as James came out of the shower naked, water still running over his skin, hair wet and Q could feel himself getting hard by the sight only - he was sure it was the first.

After the fiftyth time, Q stopped caring, and simply took it as an opportunity to stare and touch.


	128. Chapter 128

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "A promp: Q is a Wizard and he tries to help Bond in a mission with his powers!"

“It always makes me feel a bit melancholy. Grand old war ship. being ignominiously haunted away to scrap… The inevitability of time, don’t you think?”

The boy next to James paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh.

James didn’t even blink, because he wasn’t interested and only his politeness kept him from just standing up and

“What do you see?”, the boy asked, turning his head to look at James from the side. He had interesting green eyes, Bond thought absently, trying his hardest not to show his annoyance.

“A bloody big ship. Excuse me.”

“007.”

James stopped, stopping in the middle of the motion of leaving, sitting back down. He wondered what he had done wrong this time.

His newest mission required the help of the Secret Magic and Witchcraft Service of Her Majesty, and while he had grown used to the presence of bloody idiots with sticks, but working with them?

No, Bond had his pride. And he didn’t want to let someone accidentally burn his suit by being too stupid for his own craft.

“I’m the wizard assigned for your next mission”, the boy - the wizard - continued speaking, ignoring the somehow stunned silence from the elder man, “You may call me Q.”

“You must be joking”, Bond finally got out, staring at this ridiculous picture in front of him as it was its fault.

How had the boy even found him, James had tried to hide her to - honestly - sulk. But he had been found, and he knew who was to blame.

That bitch.

“Why, because I’m not running around with a stick and in a cloak?”

“Because you still have spots.”

He tried to provoke a reaction, but the boy didn’t even reach an eyebrow. He didn’t break and get nervous, nor began to stutter. Nor did he blush as James threw a glance out of the corner of his eyes at him, obviously letting his eyes roam over him.

“My complexion is hardly relevant.”

James sighed. “Your magical competence is.”

“Age is no guarantee of efficiency.”

Oh, James nearly snorted at that. All wizards he had dealt with were old, had beards and were the proof that stereotypes sometimes were more than true.

The last one had a pointy hat and now that, a tiny, little geeky wizard with too big glasses and a far too big coat. Not even stereotypes were reliable anymore.

“And youth is no guarantee of innovation.”

At that, Q sighed and squirmed on the seat, no stick anywhere James observed. There was, as far as he knew, verbal magic and none-verbal, and various ways of using it, specializations. This boy could be any kind of wizard.

Hopefully at least an hopeful one, or else James would try to make his life miserable.

“Well”, Q said, sounding all arrogant and posh, “I’ll hazard I can do more damage with one simple word sitting in my pajamas before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do in a year in the field.”

“Oh, so why do you need me?”, Bond asked, honestly curious about the answer. Also testing out the boundaries, but he always did that.

For a moment, Q was silent, and just stared at the picture, but then he spoke again, and it went over James’ back like ice.

“Every now and then a problem has to be solved without magic.”

“Or with the assistance of it only. It’s hard to know which in your pajamas.” James turned his head, offering his hand. “Q.”

The icy feeling on his back disappeared, and as Q gave an almost hesistant smile, James wondered why they would send a wizard as young as Q to help him. Why not someone who had seen enough terror and gore already.

“Double-oh-seven.”

They shook hands, and after giving James the information about their mission, he left again.

James lowered his glance, smirking. He had a nice arse for a wizard.


	129. Chapter 129

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sola1839 asked: "Oh my goodness. More wizard stuff, please. ;)"

“There are only about six wizards in the world who could set up a magical fail-safe like this”, Q mumbled as he picked up the wooden piece in his hands, a rune craved into its middle.

Bond leant against the wall, raising an eyebrow at the wizard, not really understanding a single word of what Q had been saying the last five minutes.

Silva was in a cage, magically protected and secured, no one but one of Q’s superiors - old man, beard, stereotypic wizard and not Q - being able to open it.

Now they were trying to get into his… wood.

Q had explained something about it, about some magicians using magically enchanted objects like some humans used laptops or memory sticks, but why use a piece of wood, something ordinary and breakable?

Q had a laptop, with enchantments and some improoving, but at least not a piece of wood.

“Can you get past them?”, James asked and watched Q put the wood on a table in Q-branch, some minions of the actual Q watching in curiosity.

It wasn’t every day that one got to see a magician work on something apparently unique, and it was more rare to actually see someone who knew what he was doing.

At least James hoped that he was knowing what he was doing, or else Q would be responsible for the mistakes following.

And he had grown fond of the boy in their past time together, hunting Silva, tracking him down and getting him back to MI6.

He’d rather not see him stripped off his powers because of something as simple as a mistake everyone could make. Or not, Bond was no expert in magic.

“I invented them.”

Q went over to the table after reading through a tiny, black notebook probably filled with instructions, formulas, spells and a guide to how to be sassy and cute at the same time, version two, advanced.

James smirked, and turned a bit to get a better look at what Q was doing.

He held his hands, palms down, over the wooden piece, rubbing them together and then holding them still again. James couldn’t see what he was doing, was he mumbling something, lips moving without making a noise, or had he closed his eyes?

He had no idea, only could see Q’s back (which was a nice back, so it wasn’t that bad).

And then, he could Q humm, fingers of his right hand starting to move like he was spinning a ball around, fingers flexing and stretching, hand moving in a half-circle, other hand sometimes twitching. “It’s fighting back”, he breathed out, sounding exited.

James stepped behind him and looked down on the wood, trying to see anything indicating that Q was being successful, but the boy stood totally still except for his hands, eyes closed, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Oh, it’s a map.”

“A map? Perhaps the underground?”

“Yes, it does look like-“

Q didn’t finish his sentence, because out of a sudden, he gave a cry of pain and moved his hands away like he had been burnt, tips of his fingers turning black, veins visible, red and black creeping through them.

The doors opened, and Q-branch’s minions began to panic, muttering and typing, a chaos.

In suppressed horror, James watched Q sink down on his knees, red liquid moving up to his face, and his eyes widened.

“Not such a clever boy”, Q mumbled, and that was all James needed to run.

Q was fine as he contacted James through magic, the steady voice inside James’ head.

Only James noticed the tension in his voice, but didn’t say anything.


	130. Chapter 130

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hiiiiiiiiii! You're totally awesome can I just say? *____* If you're still taking prompts, could you do one with fem!Q as a femme fatale/bond villain, and possibly some mission related 00Q smut? :DDDD"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that awesome fanart drawn by skylocked for this fill!
> 
> http://skylocked.tumblr.com/post/40349149126/inspired-by-iamnotoneofthems-prompt-fill

She called herself Q, and she had curves and a brain to die for.

James hadn’t even intended to start and end this mission like every else, only a simple kill, location, amount of guards and everything known, no need to seduce, but then he had met her.

She had worn a cocktail dress matching her green eyes, back completely free, deep cleavage, and killer high heels.

Her hair curly, dark-brown almost black, and green eyes directly staring into his soul. The mark wouldn’t be there that day, a sudden business trip, so he had an evening free.

Why not use it?

James took her to his room, a nice hotel room with a kingsized bed and a soft mattress he put her on, covering her body with his.

Her skin was smooth, no scars, so young and fresh, and he found himself licking his way up her cleavage to her lips, kissing those red, lipglossed thin lines.

She tasted of tea, and something sweet, and as he had asked for her name, she had mumbled ‘Q’ into his ear. Distracted, he had not cared about it, and just had called her darling, to which she had giggled.

He pulled her dress down, inch by inch, and discovered that she didn’t wear a bra, and pressed a kiss on her firm, a bit tiny breasts, fitting to her thin and almost bony frame.

He let his hands roam over her curves, touched her skin, exposed it as he freed her of her dress.

She did not wear a slip, and he found himself grinning like a predator as he saw her naked frame laying underneath him, her smile soft and seducing, her eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t name.

He kissed her again, and shrugged off his jacket, allowed her to undo his tie and shirt, torso naked as she broke the kiss, lips swollen and even redder than before making desire boil in James’ stomach.

Q took off his belt and trousers, pants going off easily as James helped her, their naked bodies sliding together, her breath coming out pitched as his hardened cock brushed her clit.

He was content to just kiss her, her fingernails scratching softly over his back, and her legs going around his waist.

James fondled her breasts and kissed down her lips to her neck, deciding that he could leave a mark, he wouldn’t see her again anyway. He sucked on her skin, and she moaned, a sound making James want more.

Without wasting any more time, James thrust into her, but instead of moaning or doing anything, she smirked.

James didn’t notice it immediately, but as he did, he stilled, looking down at her in surprise. She suddenly looked… different, and he was able to place the sparkle in her eyes.

He tried to get to his gun, but she turned them around, sitting on James’ lap and pinning his arms at the headboard.

Only now James realised that he hardly could move, something creeping through his veins, paralysing him.

“Poison, Mister Bond”, Q purred, James had not told her his name, “On my lips. A wonderful lipgloss, so… paralysing.”

“Who are you?”, James asked breathlessly, and she chuckled.

“I told you, my name is Q.” She rolled her hips forward and made James gasp, fingers twitching in the need to finish fucking her and then kill her, or make her scream. “I’ve read a lot about you. MI6 is so easy to hack into, and a face like yours cannot be forgotten. I recognised you immediately, Mister Bond.”

James smirked against her lips as she kissed him, before moving off and leaving him on the bed, bending down to fetch some cuffs she had hidden somewhere.

“Your files did not overestimate your abilities in bed, I’m impressed.”

She cuffed his hands against the headboard, hard and tight enough to rub on his skin. Her fingers brushed his crotch and he hissed, hips jerking up helplessly.

Q chuckled, leant down to lick over his shaft, and then turned around to get her dress.

“As much as I would love to ride you until you come and then just leave you here, the poison reacts to heat and your body would heat up too much at a climax”, she said, getting back into her dress, “So I’m afraid I have to leave you here. But thank you.”

“For what?”, he asked, confused.

As she held up a memory stick and his gun, he cursed, because this was modern and secret technology, and now she had it. “For your generous donation, Mister Bond, you helped me a lot.”

As she turned and left, her high heels clicking, James sighed, licking his lips to taste her lipstick.

Not a lethal poison, just for paralysation.

“Who are you working for?”

Q stopped in the doorframe, turning her head. “For no one, Mister Bond. Ask for the most searched hacker on the CIA list, you’ll surely find me.”

With that, she left, and James smirked to himself. What an interesting night.


	131. Chapter 131

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hello darling! I have a prompt If you'd like ; Q gets attacked (poisoned etc.) by someone and attacker leaves a note that reminds Bond that he'll never be happy after everything happened, he saves Q just in time and tries to decide what to do. (I love your writing and I hope I'm not bothering you)"

“I’m giving you five seconds to tell me why you haven’t shown up in Q’s room yet.”

James didn’t even bother looking up, knowing who it was and having known it since he had heard the constant rhythm of high heels clicking underneath a woman’s feet. He knew that noise by heart by now, only Moneypenny walked around in those in this speed.

“They left a note.”

Eve sat down next to him on the edge of the roof, even and easily walked upon, feet and heels hanging down over a quite a few meters of air before the pavement came.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that she might loose her shoes, and neither had the heart to talk about it now.

He had gone to sulk, and there was a particular and clear message behind that notion: Leave me alone.

“Who?”

James kept on staring at the city beneath his feet, eyes hard and cold, expression unmoving as he relived the events of how he had found Q.

Poor, little Q, laying on the ground with tremors rushing through his body, the poison creeping its way through his veins and up to his brain, there to kill, hurt and damage.

The doctors had no idea if something was damaged or not, but they feared that at least a few muscular neurons were paralysed and of no use anymore.

It was James’ fault. And Q had to pay the consequences.

“The men who poisoned Q. They left a note for me.”

Eve next to him threw a look at James, but he ignored it and just stared at a cab driving right underneath their feet.

“You are blaming yourself”, Eve stated, and James wanted to laugh.

But he only nodded, lips pressed into a thin line, hands fisting into his trousers and tailored coat. There were so many thoughts running through his head - how it all was his fault, how he should have been the one poisoned, this is a reminder, Bond, you will never be happy.

Everything you touch dies a cruel death, and it all is your fault. Can you survive this, the knowledge that because of you, your precious little boy toy could die or be paralysed? Can you live in the knowledge that only because of you he-

James blinked as Eve’s hand hit his cheek, a burning sensation going right to his brain, making him jerk out of his thoughts violently.

“Are you done pitying yourself?”

James only nodded, looking at her in disbelief. Normally he would say something witty, something clever, but he had no idea.

He should not have drunken that much last night.

“Q needs you, Bond. He woke up, in case you haven’t heard it yet. He doesn’t speak though he could, and just stares at the chair next to his bed like he was trying to imagine someone sitting there who isn’t, and whenever I visit him he looks at me like I’m wrong.”

Eve sighed, standing up again. Her shadow fell on James’, long and gracile.

“So you better go to him or I’ll make sure next time you get shot at it really kills you.”

With that, she walked away, and James was left alone again. He ran a hand through his hand, and sat there for at least three more hours, hiding from his guilt and worry.

Four hours later, he was at Q’s side, holding his hand, the corners of his lips curling up in the closest thing to a smile he was capable of at the moment.

Q was asleep as James mumbled an apology, and as he nearly cried at the thought of loosing his Quartermaster.

But as Q woke up again, he kissed James’ hand, as if he knew.


	132. Chapter 132

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Q isn't human. He's an android. And Bond's only just beginning to realise that."

“Good morning, Q.”

“Double-oh-seven.”

James stepped behind the Quartermaster, his chest nearly pressed against Q’s back and his breath brushing the other’s neck. He expected a shiver or a blush, but none of that happened.

Q kept on typing with his glance fixed on the screen hanging at the wall, fingers flying over his keys, and posture perfectly tense, like a ballet dancer or something.

James stepped closer, looking over Q’s shoulder.

No, he had no idea what he was doing there at his screen, but James wasn’t stupid and understood the concept of what he was doing. As far as he knew, he was coding. Maybe a new program or another update for MI6’s servers.

“Michael, correct the third line from the left, you made a coding mistake”, Q’s voice interrupted James’ thinking process, a minion cursed and hectical typing was audible.

James wondered how Q could have known that, because he had seen Michael’s screen - at least he assumed the man he had terrorised had been said - and it was anything but alike Q’s.

He had a good memory for numbers, mind you.

“Q, there is an not-authorised access to my program.”

“That’s me. Copy the signature and safe it into your system, unless you want to be surprised by my presence all the time”, Q almost sounded amused, but something made James suspicious.

He had witnessed conversations like that far too often to just say it’s a coinsidence. There was something he didn’t know, and he wanted to. He was a very curious man, after all.

“Q, a word?”

As James closed the door behind Q’s private - unused - office, he let his glance wander over the Quartermaster’s frame, trying to find anything confirming his idea from a few days ago.

There had been more than enough reasons to believe what James did, but that was science fiction and he really felt no desire to go to the psychologist just because Q would think he was stupid.

“Is something wrong, double-oh-seven?”, Q asked as James said nothing for a few minutes, sharp eyes looking at James in curiosity.

At least his facial expression showed this emotion, his eyes always lacked of any. It was worth a try, James thought, taking a deep breath as he leant against the doorframe.

“How come your eyes do not show emotions but your face does?”

Q blinked. “Haven’t you been informed about it?”, he asked, and as James looked at him with a blank expression, Q sighed, “I’m not human, double-oh-seven. I am an android.”

Android? Like those roboter-human-hybrids from Terminator? But Q was so human, it couldn’t be real, such a thing did not exist, yet James found himself believing Q because Eve once had said that Q couldn’t lie, he was rubbish at it.

At least now James knew why.

There probably wasn’t a program for it.

“You haven’t answered my question yet”, James said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Oh. Pardon.” Q cleared his throat, shifting from one foot to the other nervously. “It is nearly impossible to calculate the right amount of visible emotions in an eye, and the scientists having created me have not been able to mathimatically meassure it, so they left it be. I’m only a prototype, double-oh-seven.”

“Does that mean one day I’ll come back from a mission and they put a hardware looking older without spots in front of the desk instead of you?”

Bond counted it as a personal victory that Q looked annoyed and rolled his eyes, storming past James with slow steps, each immature and childish.

“They’ll upgrade me. No replacement of the hardware, that would be waste of money. Just like keeping you in the job is”, Q hissed, passing James and going out of the door.

James smirked, turning around to look after Q.

“Wow, they programmed you with a lot of fire, didn’t they?”

“Oh, shut it!”, Q sighed, going back to his laptop again.


	133. Chapter 133

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tonystarkandgalaga asked: "God, I hope I don't sound like a broken record but I really like the Mpreg!00Q and the kid fic, I'd really like to see Bond deal with his baby's first day at daycare or preschool if that's alright with you. Thank you!"

“What if something happens?”

Q turned his head to look at his husband next to him, Lydia holding his hand, tiny compared to Q’s, walking a bit ahead of them in exitement.

The complete opposite to James’ emotional state at the moment.

“James, M already promised that he would put this preschool under constant surveillance in the time Lydia is here”, the younger man mumbled as a few parents passed them, hardly being able to hold up with their children.

Some, in contrast, were trying to make their parents take them home again, and it painfully reminded Q of his own childhood. Lydia must have had her exitement from her father, and not from Q.

“We both know that surveillance could not keep her safe should someone decide to shoot or kidnap her.”

Q rolled his eyes, tucking at Lydia’s hand to calm her down.

Really, she shouldn’t have been that happy about going away from her fathers, it made Q worry about having done something wrong.

“You are underestimating the agent’s abilities.”

“Of course I do, I have been working with enough of them to know they are incapable of saving even their own arses. How are they supposed to keep my daughter safe?”

Q sighed and stopped a few meters away from the gate leading into the preschool, a nice, colourful building surrounded by trees and a fence to stop the children from running on the street. Opposite to the building, there was a tiny house, in which a couple had moved in a few months ago, coinsidentally a few days after Q and James had decided to put their daughter into this daycare center.

Coinsidence, and no there wasn’t a camera in the eyes of the dog statue right across the entrance door of the center.

“James, you have to let her go, we can’t lock her in at home until she is grown-up.”

“I could.”

Q sighed, letting go of Lydia’s hand. He took her backpack off and pulled out her favourite toy, giving it to her as a distraction. Her squeel of happiness made him smile.

“James-“

Both stopped to talk as Lydia tucked on Q’s cardigan, making him look down.

“They let us in now!”, she said happily, eyes sparkling in pure joy and bliss, stuffed dog in one hand, its legs brushing the ground.

“Are you sure you have everything?”, Q asked as he got down on his knees, to be on eye level with her, “Your toy?”

“Missus M is here”, Lydia held the dog up, and Q nodded.

“Your books?”

“Yes.”

“Your pens and your papers?”

“Yes, Da!”

James looked around as they spoke, until his daughter suddenly hugged his leg and pressed her cheek against it. He blinked, looking down at her in surprise.

“Everything’ll be fine, father, I’m a big girl now!”

James smiled and bent down to hug her, pressing a kiss on her blonde, messy hair.

“If someone is nasty to you, you call me and I’ll make them stop, alright?”

Lydia nodded and once James let her go again, she ran to the door and disappeared inside, her laughing echoing in James’ head as he watched her go.

He stayed on his knees until Q put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly and pulling him up.

“There is a tracking device in her dog, and another one in her hair slide”, Q mumbled and James smirked, wrapping an arm around Q’s waist and pulling him close.

“We should have given her the pepper spray.”

“They are three or four years old, James.”

“And?”

“You are paranoid.”


	134. Chapter 134

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007-reporting asked: "Prompt: Bond is tortured for at least a couple months blindfolded. When its removed, to his horror, it was Q"

“Love, is a weakness, Mister Bond. It gives you a spot which can be attacked, and it gives someone the perfect opportunity to go against you. Love, Mister Bond, turns a machine into a human being, and MI6 does not need such.”

There it was again, this voice.

It has been there since James had woken up, blood on his tongue, throat sore and dry as he had swallowed, the biting scent of death and dust rising into his nostrils.

He immediately had gone through the standard procedure after waking up without an idea of where the agent was or what had happened, and the fact that he was blindfolded indicated what had happened.

He had fallen asleep next to Q, with his arms around the Quartermaster’s frame, and then had woken up in a probably empty room, tied and chained against a chair, naked.

He had woken up naked and tied against a chair before, but the blindfold? That one was new.

He had tried to struggle against the chains of course, but they were too tight, rubbing against his skin and making it raw, and the ties around his chest were too strong.

And after a few moments of being alone, there had been a voice.

Deep, each word spoken like it was a pleasure, rich in its accent and rolling the ‘R’, Irish from the accent and probably from Dublin, as far as Bond could tell.

“Hello, Mister Bond”, it had said, and as much as Bond later wanted to believe that he had recognised it, he hadn’t.

Manipulation of the voice, perhaps through technology. He vaguely could remember Q telling him something about that being possible, a few months or weeks ago.

Q. Where was Q.

Was he alright? Hurt? Or maybe even with James? He had wanted to ask, but there were fingers on his hands, in gloves, and he figured that he was about to participate in another round of torture.

“Tell me, Mister Bond, are you in love?”

Months later, James was fairly sure there was no part of his body not wounded.

Cuts, bruises, broken bones, cut skin, and words carved into his skin.

Burnt skin, cut open, and everything hurt.

The voice was the only contact to another human being he had, but he wasn’t happy about that. It only kept him occupied, because he had something to focus on. Who this man was, and why James was here.

He always talked about love, about betrayal, about Vesper and M and Q, about things he wasn’t supposed to know about, about MI6 and weapons, about guns, radios and many more.

James said nothing the whole time, made some witty and snarky comments and got punished for that.

He got the tip of his tongue cut off, but still could speak, and he tasted blood, metallic and iron, and nearly choked on it.

His palms were cut open and burnt, and each scar was cut open again, and all James could feel was pain, confusion and the blood running down his skin, some dried, some washed off by the man almost softly.

“Love is dangerous, Mister Bond”, he always said, gloved fingers caressing a newly formed scar, “Where is your country now? Who comes to safe you? Who is there for you in this pain and loneliness?”

A few months after James had woken up, there were more voices, and then the man came back. James expected pain, but his cuffs were undone at the same moment the blindfold was taken off.

It took James’ vision a minute or more to adjust to the light and his muscles ached as he moved, about to leap at the man as he realised who it was.

His eyes went wide.

No. No way.

“Hello double-oh-seven”, Q said, voice cold as his eyes, “Congratulations, you went through the test.”


	135. Chapter 135

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "James decides to give Q a haircut. Q really doesn't want one and Q really isn't happy about it. Q becomes a nervous wreck. James does it. Does turn out so great and then after James finishes he sees scars on Q's forehead where his hair would have normally been, scars his dad gave him by possibly pressing a lit cigarette to his head? Possibly a scene revolving around that. Thanks"

“Q…”

The man sitting in front of him jerked away as James pressed his finger softly on the circle, smooth scar, immediately seeing where it came from.

It broke his heart, thinking about it, and he didn’t want to, but now he had to know it, because this was Q, precious Q, and it couldn’t be real.

“Q, do you-“

“No, I don’t want to talk about something which hasn’t happened”, Q hissed and stood up, running a hand through his significantly shorter hair, wincing, “I told you I don’t want a haircut. But no, you had to insist.”

Q stood up and walked through the curls James had cut off his hair, barefooted and quick on his way away from James and the chair, and away from what James assumed was a serious conversation about their past and what Q had never said.

James had his own demons, too many, clawing at his soul and being, but Q shouldn’t have any.

He was so young, and like an angel in James’ life, that couldn’t have happened to him. Not Q. Not his Q.

“Q, please. I’m sorry.”

“No, no James, you are not. You aren’t sorry”, Q turned around in the doorframe and pointed at his forehead, where two scars were, so obvious that James understood why Q had have his hair the way he had.

“Father or boyfriend?”

Q was taken off-guard and blinked, shoulders sinking down in surprise. And defeat, maybe, because there was something vulnerable shining in his eyes of a sudden.

“What do you mean?”, he asked quietly, gulping audibly.

“Did your father do this to you or a boyfriend?”, James repeated, taking a step towards Q, “Cigarettes. Someone pressed lit cigarettes against your forehead, and I bet I would find more on your skin now that I know what to look for.”

Q was silent for several moments, but then he sighed.

“My father.”

“Do you have his address?”

Q shook his head. “He’s in prison. If not dead already, I have no contact to him anymore.”

“Why did he do it?”, James asked, wrapping his arms around Q’s waist, “Why?”

Q let his head drop on James’ shoulder, voice barely louder than a whisper, but the words made James want to kill and punish this man, this bastard.

“Because he wanted me to know what a freak I am.”


	136. Chapter 136

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "God, I love your writing! Are you still taking prompts? If you aren't, then just ignore this. Q is captured and after some torture, the kidnappers realise that he'll never give them what they want (hack them into someplace important). So they take away his ability to hack into anything. They blind him."
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> Anonymous asked: “Prompt? 00Q. Q gets kidnapped, hurt, or whatever. When they get to Q, Bond has to comforts Q in front of the MI6 crew (Tanner, M, Eve, etc). Crying from Q? Love your stories!”

_No, stop, please, don’t-_

_Stop, stop, oh god, no-_

_It’s just an act, isn’t it? You don’t care about how much we hurt you, you are playing on time._

_What gave me away?_

_Well, your screams aren’t genuine. But we know how to make you scream, little bird, because we know how to break you._

_Oh, do you now? How, pray to tell?_

_Enjoy the view you are having, Quartermaster, it will be your last._

Q remembered having screamed, and he still did as he woke up, eyes open but nothing was there.

No, no, no, no-no. No no no no no no, why couldn’t it be a dream, why was this real, and why did this have to happen to him?

Q lifted his hands to his eyes and sobbed, and felt the thick bandages underneath his skin, knowing that they just were there so no one would have to see the massacre they did with his eyes.

They had taken his sight.

It was almost the worst thing they could have done to him, worse than damaging his legs forever, or killing him, not as bad as breaking his hands and making them useless, but what was he without his eyes?

What was Q supposed to do now?

They would fire him, they would fire him and then he would have to try and survive without computers, codes and programs, without the essence of his life. And Bond surely would leave him too, would he figure it out.

Q had no idea where he had woken up, but it smelled like medicine and clear, sterile rooms, so he figured it was a hospital.

Someone opened the door and Q blinked, pain making him want to cry, but he hardly could.

There were tears running over his eyes, but it burnt and made him sob, trying to claw the bandages away to get to his eyes, try to fix it, try to do something-

“Everything is going to be fine, Q”, a voice mumbled, and Q recognised him immediately, James, James was here.

He felt arms wrapping themselves around his frame, and felt someone kiss his head, and he wanted to see James so badly but he couldn’t, he never would be able to again, and one day he would forget how James looked like.

He would never see his eyes again, his smiles and his body, and it caused Q to cry more, sobbing loudly and without control.

“James-“, another voice said, Eve, and Q tensed.

There were others in here, and they saw him that way, was M here too? Did he want to fire Q now that he was of no use anymore?

All that intelligence wasted, locked inside a brain and without any use.

He surely would be able to create a machine which would help him work on a computer being blind, but it would take too long, and he would be a security risk and M couldn’t take that risk.

Q sobbed into James’ shoulder and burried his face in it, tears soaking the agent’s suit, but neither cared.

The door was closed, and the both were alone.

Q, surrounded by his eternal darkness, and James silently crying as he held Q close.


	137. Chapter 137

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Ooh, can we have a continuation of the fem villain q, maybe like Bond trying to track her down and Q leaves him little 'breadcrumbs' as a tease?"

There were no information about a woman called Q, but there was a hacker, number one on the CIA list of most searched cybercriminals.

She knew how to impress, certainly, and James found himself hooked.

He wanted to know who she was, and why she did the things she did. And maybe also where she got that lipstick from, and why she hadn’t been affected by it herself.

She had been licking her lips throughout their whole conversation, though she had not been under the same effects as James had been.

Q-branch figured out it was a secret formula used by some CIA agents, said where pissed off and wanted her head, which annoyed M and therefore James because he was the one being bitched at.

It wasn’t his fault this hacker-in-heels, this femme fatale had taken interest in him.

A few days after James had first encountered her, Q had sent him a sample of her lipstick, a mark of her lips on a handkerchief and a message for him.

Catch me if you can.

There were no matches as they ran a scan through the world’s DNA data base, and neither any kind of information leading to an idea who she could be.

British, James remembered, but her accent could be faked. Everything about her could be faked, even the DNA sample.

He had no reason to trust the messages she kept on sending him in the middle of the night, _thinking about you, Mister Bond, are you thinking about me?, your security system is weak, Mister Bond, we wouldn’t want anyone to break in and attack you while you sleep, Smoking is quite sexy, I have to admit, especially with MI6’s HQ behind you in view. Do tell, did you replace the annoying attempts to keep me out of the system? It was pathethic_ , but he somehow did.

She was playing a game with him, one neither would win, he could tell, and he was curious about why, and why she kept on writing him - they never managed to track her down, and when she called, she hung up long before a signal could even be found.

But one day, he came home from a mission, and there she was, in the middle of his flat.

Wearing a skirt, some kind of man’s shirt and a far too big coat over it, her glasses shining in the light and her head as messy as it had been in bed.

Her lips shined red, and her skirt was green, like her eyes.

He immediately reached out to a gun, but she lifted one and aimed for his head, finger against the trigger.

“My, Mister Bond”, Q purred and took a few steps towards James, her high heels clicking and her eyes sparkling behind those ridiculously big glasses, “Aren’t we enthusiastic?”

“I can be very enthusiastic given the right incentive, Q”, he mumbled, lifting his hands to show her he was not doing anything. Yet. “What are you doing here?”

She laughed, a noise making his heart skip a beat, and with horror he realised he had done the same mistake twice in his life, and only now noticed it.

“Why, why do you need to ask? It’s getting boring to just look at everything through videos, as high-quality-ish they are.”

Q titled her head at him, he knew that she knew, and smiled, and for once he had no idea if it was genuine or not.

“Took you long enough, Mister Bond”, she said, walking over to the window, gun still pointed at James, “I’m afraid as entertaining as it is to watch you realise things, I have somewhere to be. If you’d excuse me?”

Without another word, or letting him the chance to say something, Q let herself fall out of the window, arms spread and dress fluttering.

He ran to the window to see if she was alright, part of him wondering since when he cared and didn’t just want to make sure she was dead, but there was no sight of her.

James leant against the wall and took a deep breath, lifting the handkerchief she had given him earlier. There was the mark of lips on it, red and as dark as blood, and the letter ‘Q’ written on it. But also some codes, only the numbers one and zero in several variations, nothing he could work with.

Another bred crumb, and he knew as well as she did that he would easily manage to find her again.


	138. Chapter 138

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tenthousandsummers asked: "Your writing is perfection in its finest. Honestly. Can I request a beforeM16!Q meeting Bond and then their reaction at meeting again in the museum? ;)"

There he was, agent double-oh-seven, James Bond, staring at the picture in front of him - Q knew it, and decided to warm Bond up before giving him his gun first.

They should have met at Q-branch, but Bond instead came here to probably sulk, at least Miss Moneypenny told Q as she gave him the instructions.

A grown-up man, sulking.

An agent, a cold-blooded killer in the services of Her Majesty, sulking.

Q approached him carefully, not wanting to startle a man who could just snap his neck in a fluid, easy motion - not that it was possible to startle an agent, Q had learnt that lesson already.

Something about him was familiar, it lay on Q’s tongue, ready to be said and analysed, ready for his brain to take it apart, word by word, letter by letter, and yet he couldn’t put a finger on it. It was something stupid probably, like he had passed him on the street, or had seen his face amongst the thousands of faces he had stared at through hacked security cameras, through files and data he hadn’t been supposed to have access to.

The realisation hit him as he sat next to Bond, and saw his face from the side, and those blue eyes.

It ran down his spine, a hot shiver, connected to memories of a night spent alone in the darkness, a group of three thugs and a man with blue eyes rushing through his mind, and he had to take a deep breath not to just react in any way which could reveal something.

He had met Bond before, a few years ago as he had barely been an adolescent, out alone in the night for a stolen cigarette from his father.

Bond. It had been Bond. The man who had knocked the thugs and possible rapists out cold and had accompanied Q back to his home, while chatting with him warmly as if they had known each other for years, asking Q about his studies and listening to him as he had talked about computers and codes.

It had been Bond. Of course he had been able to make Q trust him, he was an agent, and something alike fury boiled in Q’s lower stomach.

He shut it off and replaced it with coldness, an arrogance people wouldn’t associate with a young man of his age, a confidence which Bond immediately sensed and attacked to no avail.

Just as Q was about to leave, he felt a hand around his wrist, stopping him in every motion.

Q turned around in surprise played down with a raised eyebrow and smugness, and the question _what is it, double-oh-seven?_

“Your studies turned out well, I see”, Bond said, and Q felt his legs give in.

But he stayed strong, and gave a light smile, lips curling up slightly and almost not visibly, but Bond caught on it and smirked on his own.

“They did”, Q only agreed and then left, feeling Bond’s glance follow him.


	139. Chapter 139

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt: It's Q and Bond's first date, Q has spent hours prepping (eg showering twice and going though dozens of outfits) during the date Q finds out Bond has been just as nervous"

No, the hair still wasn’t right. Neither was the way Q’s suit was hanging down his body, and neither was his shirt.

There were wrinkles in it, he could tell.

Nearly ripping out all buttons as he tried to open them hastily, Q stared at himself in the mirror, wondering if he should have showered for a third time, and it he should have combed his hair more, or if he should have taken his glasses instead of contact lenses he hardly used anyway.

James would laugh at him. Or he would think Q looked like a teenager going out to his first prom, awkward, and out of place.

As Q put on his third shirt, a red one to his black jacket, the door bell rang.

James was here. Q had to change his suit again, he couldn’t go and face the agent like that, but it was too late now. Q was on the edge of a nervous breakdown as he went to open the door, buttoning one button of his jacket before he opened the door and faced James.

For a moment, he thought James looked nervous, but he ignored this thought again immediately - James Bond never was nervous.

It probably was only an attempt of Q’s brain to calm down, to no avail.

It turned out that James was nervous, even though he was more than capable of hiding it behind a charming smile.

Q had no idea how he had figured it out, but somewhen between their dinner and the drinks served, he had stared at James and said: “You are nervous, aren’t you?”

“Yes”, James answered immediately, and as Q titled his head at him in surprise, James sighed, “I normally don’t do… this.”

“This?”

James raised an eyebrow, playing with his glass, fingers trailing over the edge. “Dating. I usually never have to date someone to get them into bed.”

Q frowned. “Is that why you are doing it? To get me into bed?”

The agent shook his head and reached out to Q’s hand, his bigger and rougher, warm against Q’s always cold skin. It was a strangely romantic and affectionate gesture, one Q would have never associated with James Bond.

But here he was, feeling himself blush a bit, his cheeks heating up in dark pink.

“No. Don’t ever think that, Q.”

He leant forward and pressed a kiss on Q’s cheek, lingering longer than necessary. Q felt himself closing his eyes, until James was already back and his lips leaving Q’s cheek.

“Promise me to.”

“To what?”, Q asked, opening his eyes again curiously.

“Promise me to never think that I am doing this to get you into bed”, James said, but then he smirked and winked, “Not only because of that. Though I wouldn’t object.”

“Oh shut it.” Q sighed. “Just how nervous were you?”

Pulling his collar down, James revealed a red, angry scar at his throat, from cutting himself while shaving Q realised, eyes widening in surprise.

“That nervous?”

Bond nodded, sipping at his wine.

“Wow.”

“What did you do?”

Q leant back. “Shower twice and considered cutting my hair off in a wave of panic and self-hatred.”

James’ expression darkened. “Don’t you dare.”


	140. Chapter 140

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007-reporting asked: "Prompts: Bond leaves Q to go deal with the intruders in MI6, giving Q a gun to use if he doesn't come back or he is surrounded. And he does."

The gun lay heavy and cold in his hands, fingers wrapped around it, one laying against the trigger, ready to pull it if necessary.

Q was no stranger to violence, nor to guns and he had used them before - he did test his own equipment before giving it to agents.

But the thought of actually using it did something strange in the young man’s chest, his heart beating rapidly against it, and there was a pressure he felt against his lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

_In and out, Q. Keep your breath even. Aim. Shoot._

Seeing something move in the corner of his eyes, Q whirled around, aimed and shot.

The man sank down to the ground, and with relief Q saw that it wasn’t James, not like he had worried for hours since the agent had left him.

MI6 had been under attack since four hours, James gone since two and Q’s panic attack had turned into a constant state of pleasegoddon’tletmedie.

He went into hiding behind his desk again after dragging the corpse behind another out of view of the door, not wanting to alarm any enemy who might come across this branch.

Q-branch was the lowest in the HQ, meaning that if they worked their way through the storeys one by one, they would be here soon.

The sounds of gunshots had died down, and it was creepily silent. Q lifted his knees to his chest, hands shaking violently around the gun, attention focused on the door alone.

James would survive and come back to get Q, and Q would survive long enough until then.

After a while, he heard footsteps, and sat up to take a look and see how many he was dealing with.

A bullet brushed his cheek, drawing blood, and he cried out in pain, lifting the gun and shooting thrice.

The first shot hit the first one into the knee, the second one went through his head and the third hit the glass wall behind the second intruder, making it shadder and shards rain down.

Q shot a fourth time, watching how the body sank down, blood soaking the shirt and turning it red.

He took a deep breath, fighting back tears.

James still wasn’t here. And there were no sounds coming from above and from the upper levels.

Q hid again, closed his eyes and pressed a hand against his cheek, feeling warm, sticky blood, dropping onto his cardigan and on the ground.

_Q, don’t move. Stay where you are, I’ll be back shortly._

Four hours later, there still was no sign of James.

Q heard footsteps and wanted to look around the corner, but the barrel of a gun was pressed against his forehead, and he stared into the eyes of a man whose lips were drawn up in an obscure grin.

He didn’t blink as the safety was released, nor felt panic as the finger came to rest on the trigger.

Q closed his eyes.

There was a shot.


	141. Chapter 141

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "You ruin me. Totally wreck me. I can't get this idea out of my head since I read your Bondlock and mpreg prompt fills. So I'm going to plant the bugger in your head. Prompt: Q tells Mycroft and Sherlock he's pregnant with a double 0 baby. What a way to introduce Bond to his family. The kidnapping was so uncalled for."

“Please, have a seat, Mister Bond.”

As the agent made no movement nor even flinched with a single muscle, Mycroft swung his brolly through the air, seeing how those blue eyes immediately fixed on it, cold and calculating.

_Fascinating. Trained killer, possibly double-oh-agent. Interesting choice of lover, Benjamin._

“I want to talk to you about your latest choice of bed partner.”

Bond immediately tensed, hand going to his gun, located beneath his jacket, left chest.

“What do you want from him?”

 _Careful not to say a name. Maybe doesn’t even know Benjamin’s real name._ Mycroft titled his head, and leant on his brolly, face twisted in a faked, calm smile.

“It is in my interest to assure that he is in good hands, especially considering the latest developments”, Mycroft said, carefully choosing his words.

The glimpse of confusion sparkling in the blue eyes, gone as quickly as it had appeared. Ah, he doesn’t know yet.

“What is your association with him?”, Bond asked, calm and trained, ready to go and shoot Mycroft through the head if necessary.

At least he would be capable of protecting Benjamin and the baby of his, if Sherlock wouldn’t manage to scare him off or let him disappear somewhere in a country not even Mycroft would be able to find him in. But then, Sherlock was kind of biased and John was a good influence, especially since they too had brought news into the Holmesian family.

“I am a concerned party, Mister Bond, my exact association is of no importance right now.” Mycroft titled his head, staring coldly into Bond’s eyes. “What does Benjamin meant to you?”

Bond stared blankly at him, but his shoulders sank down a bit, and his hands stopped being tense in anticipation of getting his gun ready to shoot.

“That, in case you haven’t been aware yet, is his real name. You know him as Q, I know him as Benjamin, Ben during his adolescene and the sudden attempts to get away from anything related to family and acquaintances.”

“Who are you?”

“His brother.”

Bond finally seemed to relax, and his eyes searched for visible shared appearance traits - the eyes, sharp, calculated, and there were other traits the agent easily should pick on.

“That is an interesting way of introducing yourself to your brother’s partner, I have to say.”

Mycroft faked a smile. “His way of letting us know about your existance was unconvential in its own way, too.” _Might as well let the bomb go off._ “I do have to say, getting to know that my brother chose to try indulge in a relationship again by being given the news of his pregnancy was a shock itself.”

The shock painted on Bond’s face was priceless, and Mycroft found himself feeling a sting of amusement.

He really hadn’t known, then. Q had told his brothers first, which was a surprise in itself.

They hadn’t have contact for a few months.

“Pregnancy?”, Bond repeated, voice quiet, light in constrast to his usual deep vibrating one. Shock. Disbelief.

“Yes, Mister Bond. And considering the fact he did not participate in coitus the last six months besides with you, it is quite clear who the father is.”

“I didn’t-“

“We neither.”

There was a heavy silence laying above them, thick and almost palpable in the air. Mycroft watched the agent carefully, seeing how he regained his posture and control, face going blank once again.

There was a sparkle in his eyes, though, making them appear lighter. Maybe happiness, exitement, or horror.

It could be both.

“My only questions, Mister Bond, are the following: Do you love my brother, and will you stay with him and the child?” _If you do not, I will make sure that you won’t return from your next mission_ , Mycroft silently added, and by the way Bond raised an eyebrow, he had felt the silent threat.

“Where is he now?”, Bond asked instead of answering, but it was an answer in itself, and Mycroft was pleased by it.

“At your flat. Do go to him.”

Bond turned around and left, running once he was around the corner, probably back to his car with which Mycroft had brought him here.

It was a nice car. Not safe for a child, but Mycroft would look into that later.

xx

_“The kidnapping was uncalled for, Mycroft.”_

“It was necessary, and you are quite aware of it.”

 _“You could have left me the choice to tell him or not.”_ Q sighed over the phone, and Mycroft drank a sip of his tea. _“He won’t let me leave the flat and starts buying everything needed for a child already. It’s still eight months."_

Mycroft smiled. “Well, he does seem to care for you.”

_“Yes, he does. He will be a good father, won’t he?”_

There was something close to worry in Q’s voice, and Mycroft took a moment to think about it.

“He will.”


	142. Chapter 142

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Hi! I really love your 00Q prompts, hopefully you're still taking prompts. If so I'd really enjoy a kid!fic where Bond's the older, braver kid that saves younger!Q from bullies. Cue adorable Q thinking of olderboy!Bond as his hero. XD

“Let him go, now.”

Q didn’t dare looking up from where he was curling up on the ground, knees lifted to his chest and arms wrapped around it, trying to block out the three boys surrounding him, but they were too loud.

Q had always been the easiest target: Bony, no muscles, and no physical power to hold up against their combined.

In a game of chess or an online MMORPG, he would easily beat them. Even in a match of an ego-shooter.

But physically, he was less than capable of holding his own, and the bullies had caught onto that fact quite quickly. He was the youngest one at the school, having skipped two classes and pre-school, and the weakest.

“Stay out of this, Bond.”

“I don’t think that I want to, actually.” Q cracked an eye open, a bit surprised to see James of all people standing there, face beaten and bruised from the fights he got into.

Q looked up and met the elder’s eyes, and Bond gave a tilt of his head.

“Take someone of your own size, or aren’t you brave enough to?”, James took a step forward and let his bag drop, sleeves rolled up, “Let the boy alone.”

“I’m not a bo-“

James’ glance silenced Q immediately, made him crawl a bit away from the scene with his back hitting the wall, trying to get out of harm’s way.

“Make us, blondie.”

James made them leave him alone, in the end.

Q had never seen a single boy take out three in a time as short as this, but James had been everywhere, with his fist, with his legs and with his feet in their ribs, cries echoing and tears running down the bullie’s cheeks as they ran away.

Bond shook his bloody knuckles, and then looked down at Q.

The younger boy slowly sat up, blinking at James in surprise. Wow.

“T-thank you”, Q said quietly, reaching out to his books and papers on the ground, most full of dirt and the ink smeared across the papers.

“Welcome.”

As Q looked up, he could see a hand offered to him, bloody knuckles, rough skin.

Q took it and was pulled up, before being lifted on Bond’s back, carried around the whole day since Bond didn’t seem to have anything else to do.

They kept on doing this until Q was almost at James’ height.

Q was sixteen when James first kissed him, and was twenty-one when they moved in together.


	143. Chapter 143

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> malakia215 asked: T_T Why do you do such prompts that leave me wanting more? If you have time, I would like to see a continuation of the jealous!Bond prompt. It was lovely but I wanted more. Like a confrontation but with a HAPPY ending, please....
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> Anonymous asked: “hey can you continue the jealous bond one please? happy ending pleeeease.”
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> Anonymous asked: “Hello! I really liked that last possesive!Bond prompt. Could we hope for a continuation? Maybe the morning after, Q hurts more than what Bond thought, and he feels sorry and express his distress about the ex?? (thank you!!)”

malakia215 asked: T_T Why do you do such prompts that leave me wanting more? If you have time, I would like to see a continuation of the jealous!Bond prompt. It was lovely but I wanted more. Like a confrontation but with a HAPPY ending, please....

(Also: “hey can you continue the jealous bond one please? happy ending pleeeease.”

and

“Hello! I really liked that last possesive!Bond prompt. Could we hope for a continuation? Maybe the morning after, Q hurts more than what Bond thought, and he feels sorry and express his distress about the ex?? (thank you!!)”)

The light limp in Q’s steps made James open his eyes, a groan leaving his mouth as the lights blinded him, illuminating the room in this happy, bright and sunny light he wanted to strangle and kill.

He heard his lover’s footsteps fade, before he was out of James’ hearing range, probably in the bathroom or kitchen.

James hoped it was the latter, because he needed a coffee, water and a lot of aspirin.

The events of last night were vague in his head, almost foggy, and all he could remember was Martin and getting out to become wasted.

He licked his lips, tasting alcohol, dried sweat and blood.

The latter made James sit up too quickly for his head, everything blurrying, shades and shapes moving, fusing and turning, and he felt bile rising up his throat, but he swallowed it down and stood up, heading to where Q was.

Martin had been an arse, Bond remembered. Flirting with Q who had either flirted back or done something stupid like not noticing it, and James had been angry.

He had left to get a drink, which had turned into two, then three, before he quickly had lost count.

And then…

_I hurt him._

Bond stopped in the doorframe to the kitchen, seeing Q leaning against the counter, legs appearing to be too weak to keep him up, a light tremor catching James’ attention. He was naked, his hair messier than usually, his face pale nearly white, and his body covered in marks.

It usually never made James’ eyes go wider, nor let him feel a constant pain rising in his chest, making it tighten and pressure apply, it was getting hard to breathe, and he heard a chanting in his head, the mantra of _‘No’_.

Marks never were that visible, not even if James wanted them to be.

They never had the shapes of fingers angrily digging into skin, nails scratching and leaving bloody marks all over Q’s back and his hips. They never had the form of teeth marks at his neck, looking like Q had been bitten by a vampire, but it had been James, he had drawn blood.

Q’s arse looked abused, blue, purple, and red, and James felt the urge to turn around, vomit and then shoot himself in the head thrice, because once wasn’t enough.

“Are you going to stare at me all day? Your coffee is getting cold.”

Q’s voice startled James, but he fetched his cup, drank a sip or two and kept on staring at Q, trying to recall what exactly he had done. Needing to check for any serious damage, for broken bones or scars which would stay, which would mark this beautiful body for all time.

“Q-“

“No, don’t apologise.” Q finally turned to look at James, and there was a mark at his cheek, like someone had rubbed their stubble against his skin aggressively.

James lifted his hand to his jaw, feeling it. He should shave soon.

“Why? It is my fault, clearly, and I shouldn’t have reacted that way. You are hurt.”

Q raised an eyebrow. “It was because of Martin, wasn’t it?” James said nothing, and Q sighed. “You got angry, and drunk. Was it because of him? Are you-“

“Don’t.”

Q stared into James’ eyes and ended his sentence with an exhalation of breath, face blank and controlled. “-jealous?”

James’ shoulders sank down and, hesistantly and carefully, he approached his younger lover, seeing a bit of tension creeping through this bony frame and limbs, but Q didn’t flinch away as James wrapped his arms around his torso, not wanting to hurt him in any way by touching his waist or lower region.

“He was flirting with you”, James mumbled as if it explained everything, and as he put his head on Q’s, his grip tightened, “I’m not jealous. I’m possessive. You are mine.”

James expected Q to push him away and leave, because that was what normal people did when being told that someone considered them as their belonging.

He expected Q to leave, and never come back, and a new minion to be the one assigned for his missions.

But all Q did was sighing, leaning into the contact and humming. “I know.” He paused, arms going around James’. “Yours.”

Martin never came to visit again. Whenever he tried to call, his call did not go through, and as he showed up in front of the flat to knock, there was no one home.

After a month, he gave up.

And James allowed Q to be out without him again, though Q hadn’t minded it that much.

It was a nice contrast to the behaviour he had been used to because of previous boyfriends, an overly possessive one wasn’t that bad.

Only as James bared his teeth at a minion who had dared to be friendly, Q made him sit in the corner for an hour, so he could think about what he had done.

_James kept on doing it anyway._


	144. Chapter 144

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Hey your writing is beautiful <3 I was wondering if you could do a one-shot where your female!Q is tortured/beaten/harmed and Bond ends up helping her and not handing her over or something? xx

As Q spat out blood, she had to blink a few times to clear her visions, eyes not quite used to the circumstances of _broken glasses and shards poking her eye_ she found herself in.

If that only was the only problem, she thought, giving the man in front of her a cold glare.

Time was an interesting concept when being held captive, and tortured, and it suddenly became meaningless when she usually was focusing on every second, because in the world of computers, wars could be won within the matter of a second or less.

But this, it was just incredibly annoying. The same over and over again.

They would come into her cell somewhen around noon, torture her for about an hour or less, humilate her, make sexist and rape-jokes, and then leave her alone for the rest of the day.

When they felt _creative_ , they visited her for a second time, besides for food or something to drink.

One even got used to the scent of urine, after a while, and at least she still was in her clothes, so the coldness was bearable.

Her cardigan was torn a bit, yes, and the shirt had seen better days, but her skirt was fine. They left her hair untouched too, for their luck, and if her glasses wouldn’t have been in the way of a punch, she would have survived that too.

But now half of her vision was red, and she tasted red blood, her lipstick smeared and their knuckles red. It almost was ironic.

Red, red, red.

Where was the green?

By now she at least knew why she was here - a not remotely official sup-group of the CIA had found her, and as _an enemy of the states and a threat to humanity itself_ , they had the right to torture her for information.

Americans.

Q was sure that there was close to no bone not broken inside her body, and that her skin was red, purple, blue and a weird shade of yellow or green, dusty, dirty and disgusting.

As the door was opened with a bullet instead of a key, Q figured that she would either die, be taken to another organisation wanting her head, or saved.

The blue eyes were something she recognised immediately, despise her injuries and problems seeing in general, and she was torn between trying to smirk and groaning _finally, bloody hell, what took you so long?_

“You are late”, was what she said as he undid her ropes, her body falling into his arms because she had no energy left, and everything hurt so much, “Hello, Mister Bond.”

“Hello Q, I imagined our next encounter to be less tragic like the last, but you are one for dramatics, aren’t you?”

Bond lifted her into his arms and carried her out, bodies covering the floor, blood and bullets, and she felt like a damsel in distress and wanted to roll her eyes, but there were shards in them and she wasn’t stupid, nor did she feel the sudden wish to become blind.

“Anything else would leave you bored”, she mumbled against his neck, nearly falling asleep right here, “How did you find me?”

“Our Q hacked into the CIA after they behaved smug.”

“And who is your Q, Mister Bond?”

He said nothing, she took it as a victory, and allowed herself to doze off, falling into unconsciousness, her body drifting away and so did the pain…

xx

As Q woke up, she was in a hotel room, with someone sitting on the bed next to her.

“Is that the design of MI6’s cells? They changed since I last was there”, Q mumbled and tried to sit up, but his hand gently pushed her down again.

“You are in London, but the HQ is at the other end of the city.”

“Why did you help me?”

Bond said nothing and simply stood up, walking over to what looked like a kitchen. He wore nothing but a comfortable pair of trousers and a shirt not being buttoned, appearing so casually domestic that Q wondered if she was dead.

“Sleep.”


	145. Chapter 145

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theoneandonlywhitetiger asked: "Ohmygod. The blind!Q was so good. Could you continue it?"
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> Anonymous asked: "Oh gosh, the one with Q losing his sight is heartbreaking! I can’t imagine what he’d do afterwards, but you probably could. Please make a sequel, thank you ^^”

Being blind was not the worst thing which had happened to Q.

Being blind only was a challenge, being blind did not resemble the end of his life, and it did not give him a reason to get depressed and lock himself in his room.

Being blind wasn’t going to stop him working.

It wasn’t-

_Who am I even kidding. It already has._

Q had been in hospital for nearly three weeks of being tested almost twice each day, of Bond staying at his side and of M dropping by, out of sympathy but also because he wanted to know if there was something to save.

It was like a computer which was destroyed in its ability to portray the data, maybe a broken screen, a mistake in the connection between screen and processor.

One had to wait, and if there was a chance to fix it, then this chance was viewed as an opportunity. Or there was no hope of change, and then?

_On the trash._

As desperate as Q had tried to find a solution, something which would allow him to work again, he hadn’t found anything.

Q was replaced by a new one, and he became Benjamin again, an assistance for Claire who now had his position, and most of the times asked him instead of ordering on his own.

It was a pathetic, weak job, a position not worth his brain, and most of the time he didn’t bother coming to Q-branch, or leave his flat, because it didn’t make a difference anyway.

They would contact him, and say what was wrong, and he would give them the solution to hang up again.

Over and over again. His phone rang, he heard her voice, he talked, he hang up, he placed the phone down.

His phone rang. He heard her voice. He talked, he hang up. He placed the phone down.

It rang.

She explained, he fixed.

He hang up, put the phone down and was alone again, darkness surrounding him and mocking him.

Sometimes, when he felt lonely, he turned the TV on, and listened to women crying about their men cheating on them or the other way around. He listened to people dying at the news, and listened to _dramatic and unique pictures, shocking and nothing for sensitive viewers._

He sometimes wondered what it was, but the sounds of gunshots and explosions drove him paranoid, so he switched the chanels and listened to a woman saying: _“No, Antonio, no! You can’t leave me, what about our unborn child?”_

At least they could see. And they didn’t even realise how happy they were.

He hadn’t left his flat in four days or more, it was hard to keep track of the time when you couldn’t see your calendar nor the date on your phone, as his phone rang, shortly followed by the sound of someone opening the door to his bedroom.

Q didn’t feel panic, it probably was a kidnapper hoping he could help them, only to realise that the former Quartermaster of MI6 was fucking blind.

“Q?”

“It’s Benjamin. You have to talk to Claire if you want to talk to Q”, Q mumbled and rubbed his eyes, bandages off, but he never opened them, “What do you want, Bond?”

The mattress next to him sunk down a bit, so he had sat down next to Q, and there was a brush of something against Q’s skin.

He only realised that James had taken his phone as James took his hands, lifted them and pressed a kiss on them.

Q flinched, because he hadn’t seen it, and it felt like a sparkle in darkness, surprising and painful.

“You are giving up.”

“Naturally”, Q snorted, “I’m blind. There isn’t much to do besides that.”

James was silent for a moment, but he moved. He pulled Q against him, ignoring the yelp of annoyance and let me go you idiot as he wrapped his arms around Q, kiss pressed on the messy hair.

“Being blind does not mean the end. You can keep on ruining the world with your fingertips.”

“How?”, Q asked breathlessly, voice higher and desperate, “How when I cannot see?”

James’ finger brushed Q’s eyelids and automatically, he opened them, the world stayed black and dark, but he had the feeling that James appreciated it.

How, Q wondered, his eyes were scarred and ugly.

“You’ll invent a way.”

The next morning, as James came out of the shower, Q sat in a pile of papers and gave a tiny robot instructions which it wrote down.

There were red cuts all over his skin where he had failed to build the robot together properly, but it was progress.

James smiled, leaning against the doorframe.


	146. Chapter 146

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tracionn asked: "I just caught up with your fills of today and ASSFGJJ The noises I made were hardly human. I loooooved the abusive relationship one, and the pyjama and the sick!Q one and of course, of course both the wing ones. It's utterly amazing how you can wrapp so many fellings in such a quick time into such ficlets! I'm very awed. The wings, the wings!!! I hope Q will be alright after the bullets he took - I'd love to read more about it!! Thnx again and again for all those delights!"

As Q opened his eyes, everything hurt.

Well, not everything. He could tell that he was under the influence of something toxic and therefore dangerous, maybe only painkillers, sedatives and the common drugs used by the hospitals all around the world. Half of his body was numb.

It were his wings which hurt, and with horror Q realised that they were spread.

The average length of wings for a human body - if there was something average in this - was quite long, and spread, Q’s wings easily could reach from one wall of his bathroom to the other.

If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a second bed next to his, maybe even a third on both sides. Whoever had brought him here, they had put a bit thought into it.

_But who? And why?_

His memories were a bit foggy as he finally could see a bit, the light having blinded him and his vision blurry, but he remembered the bullets, the pain, Bond, and the darkness of his mind as he had passed out.

Bond.

Sitting up, Q ignored the pain coming from his wings as they moved along his movements, folding a bit and being tucked behind his back - _bandaged_ , Q realised, someone had bandaged his wings.

A doctor, most likely. They knew.

_They knew._

“I don’t think you should be sitting up. I may not be a doctor, but they said they would cuff you on the bed.”

Q sighed as he recognised Bond’s voice from his right, deep, slighty amused, but something laying underneath those layers of intonation, something darker and heavier, almost palpable int the air as Q turned his head.

Glasses were carefully put on his nose, and as Q blinked, his vision cleared and he saw James.

“I learnt at a very young age that not even cuffs can hold me down.” Q raised an eyebrow. “They are so easy to break.”

James leant back and put the book he had been reading on his lap - _Maximum Ride, Q read, actually confused about the fact that James Bond read a novel for adolescents._

“You owe me an explanation.”

Q’s wings fluttered and he hissed, spreading them again which hurt less. As far as he could feel it, there were no broken bones, which meant that he would be able to fly again. His bones, just like a bird’s, were hollow, the tiniest crack and they could be damaged beyond healing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been out, flying with the wind messying up his hair, but he remembered the joy and fun, the freedom.

“Do you want to hear a tragic story about how my mother sold herself and me in her womb for an experiment of mixing the genetic material of birds with a human being?”

“No.”

“Good”, Q leant back against the headbord, back of his head hitting it softly, wall cold against the feathers of his wings, “Me neither.”

Bond edged closer, one hand resting next to Q’s on the bed, and for a moment the younger man was tempted to take it and twine their fingers, but the thought alone made him blush lightly and his wings flutter in exitement and nervousness.

“Can you fly?”, James asked out of a sudden and as Q nodded, he gave a grin of his, “Does M know?”

Q nodded once again. “M, the head of the medical branch, Miss Moneypenny. No one else.”

“Except for me, now.”

Bond carefully lifted his hand, fingers brushing one of the primary feathers. Q shivered, not knowing whether to fold his wings or move them towards Bond.

“May I?”

“Go ahead.”

James’ fingers brushed Q’s feathers, a ghost of a touch, but it made Q’s spine shiver within his body, and his eyes fall closed after a while. The nerves weren’t like the ones in his mostly human body, but they were sensitive, and what Bond did was…

_Breath taking._

“Did the bullets cause any permanent harm?”

Q shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. The wings aren’t as vulnerable or vital as any organs or my skin.” He cracked an eye open. “I’m fine.”

Bond nodded, face blank, but there was a sparkle of something in his eyes as his fingers caressed the feathers, digging in between them, finding spots which made Q shiver.

A few weeks later, Q had a name for this sparkle, it was named love.


	147. Chapter 147

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I'm a sucker for angst and hurt/comfort fics. I also a sucker for fics where there's some sort of strange disorder or illness that causes all the angst and hurt. I'd love love love to read a fic where Q has Wernicke’s Aphasia. Especially if the reason he acquires it in the first place is because of Bond."

“James, can you… can you forl t?”

James looked up from where he was sitting, eyebrows raised as he found Q, standing in the corner, bandage still around his head.

He remembered what he had done, but found himself not feeling guilt, and he didn’t know whether to hate this fact or embrace it.

Guilt made weak, and Q didn’t need any. He needed someone strong to lean on, and not someone who felt guilty for ruining his life and ability to function.

“You mean tea?”

Q furrowed his eyebrows at him, and shook his head. “I warra three.”

As James just stared at Q, the younger man sighed and turned around, just doing it on his own - whatever he had wanted James to do.

The kettle was boiling, so Q had wanted tea, and it made sense in his sick, damaged mind. James got up and followed him, not wanting Q to accidentally put salt into his tea.

“Did you Morneaux that key stkslates your fences, and you get psalm bou it, despise by wok you ddd. You destreies my knife James and yet I’m four here, because I am water”, Q began to babble again, James remembered what the doctor had said and walked over to him, putting his hands on Q’s mouth.

He kept on talking, but after a while he stopped and leant against the elder who wrapped his arms around Q’s waist.

It was called Wernicke’s Aphasia, triggered by damage to the posterior portion, the left hemisphere’s superior or middle temporal lobe. James had no idea what the doctors had meant with that, but by now James knew what it meant for his and Q’s life.

“Tea was ridi”, Q mumbled and reached out to the kettle, completely oblivious to the fact that he had started to quote Shakespeare, a grotesque version of it with wrong words, wrong rhymes and so many mistakes that James didn’t know which one it was.

Or if it was Shakespeare at all.

James stayed silent and just made Q’s tea, the babbling something he had got used to by now, something he would have to learn and understand, and something he had to accept.

_It was his fault, after all._


	148. Chapter 148

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt : 00Q au. Q and James are a couple and they live together. James is a teacher and Q is IT specialist or working in a cafe. They spend every evening after work resting and enjoying each other. comfort/fluffy Thank you <3"
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> Anonymous asked: "Bond and glasses, please?”

“I swear, I wanted to strangle this woman at the line”, Q protested and leant back, falling on the mattress and putting his arm over his eyes to shield them from the light, “ _’Yes, I checked that the computer is on, do you think I’m stupid?’_ ”

Q let out a huff of annoyance, and James next to him put his book down a bit.

“Do you know what was wrong? She forgot to turn on her fucking screen!”

James gave a low chuckle and reached out, fingers brushing Q’s jaw, then moving up to his hair and beginning to stroke it softly. Q cracked an eye open and looked over at the elder, whose glasses were slipping down a bit, hanging half-down his nose.

Squirming closer, he pushed them up again gently, ignoring how James’ expression got blank.

Oh yes, he hated his glasses, but they gave him something…. something. Q had no word for it but he knew what he meant, and that was enough. James would have his head for it anyway.

“Someone in one of my lectures today made some homophobic comments about a fellow agemate.”

“Oh?”, Q moved until he could rest his head on James’ chest, feet over the edge of their bed and his back against James’ side. He could feel his chest rise and fall, hear his heartbeat, and it was calming.

A wonderful melody, almost like a composition, and Q considered taking a day off to write one for James’ oncomming birthday.

James hummed, lifting his book again.

“How did you react?”

“Since the mentioned agemate was one of the other students in the lecture, the whole class heard how the other outed him.” James sighed. “I told the class that being gay was nothing wrong and that I would send the one responsible to the office of the principal.”

“And?”

He could hear how James hesistated, and knew that he had done something Q might consider as stupid.

Q sat up and turned around, confused by the suddenly stony expression on his partner’s face.

“What did you say afterwards?”

“Well”, James started, book laying on his stomach, “I assume he wanted to mutter it, but he said out aloud Faggot, to which I replied that such a remark is rude.”

The elder grinned, taking his glasses off. “But, I said, he was right, in his limited view on the world, I am a faggot and very happy with my male partner, unlike the student whose girlfriend broke up with him right before the lecture, which I witnessed.”

Q raised an eyebrow, silent for a few moments. “And?”

He knew James, that wasn’t the end.

“I gave the whole class the homework to write an essay of five pages about how homophobia and old-fashioned opinions are a sign of poor and little intelligence.”

At that, Q chuckled, leaning down to rest his head on James’ chest again. He lifted his head and pressed a kiss on the elder’s jaw, before closing his eyes, snuggling against him.

“Very well done”, Q muttered, “Back to this woman. She then proceeded to tell me that it was my fault for not having noticed that the screen was off, when she was at the other end of London. Well, excuse me that I didn’t hack into your computer, which I very well could have done, to see that your screen was turned off, I am so very sorry.”

James gave an amused snort, throwing an arm over Q’s form and pulling him closer.

“How long do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Until six.”

James hummed. “I only have lectures until two, but I have to correct the papers and some exams. I’ll try to be finished until six.”

“Thanks love.”

James smiled. “Welcome. Now rest, you must be exhausted after solving tiny-minded people’s problems.”

“You have no idea.”


	149. Chapter 149

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: X-Men AU in which Bond is a Pyrokinetic and Q is a Technopath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MMI6 - Mutant Military Intelligence, Section 6. Aren't I creative today?

_"Double-oh-seven, get out of there."_

James only huffed into the earpiece and kept on running through the corridors, weapon in only one hand so he could use his other one in case of a need for fire.

One might never know.

There was no one there, no guards, no mutants to attack or stop him from trying to locate the main server they had been informed about, the one they needed to take down as fast as possible or else _they'll hurt every technopath by causing a link and sending a virus, which is possible double-oh-seven_.

If only this place was less of a labyrinth and more of an actual building, not one of those bigger-on-the-inside constructions some mutant organisations were fond of.

Just like MMI6, James though, burning the handle of a door to kick it open.

Nothing. Just an empty room.

James growled in frustration, shut the half-melted, half-burnt door again and continued to make his way through the corridors, only four of twenty left, ignoring how Q kept on saying that he had to get out.

After the so-and-so-th time, Bond snapped: "For god's sake, what makes you repeat that over and over again?"

 _"There is a bomb in this building, double-oh-seven._ "

"And?", James asked, burning the next door and kicking it open, "Deactivate it, Q. You're a technopath."

There was a sigh, and James stopped in the middle of his movements. Something was wrong.

"Q?"

_"I cannot. It's fighting back."_

James frowned, keeping on running, but now into the direction of the entrance, or at least where he thought he remember where it was. If Q couldn't deactivate it, then James wouldn't be able to manually, so he had to get out. His ability wouldn't save him from an explotion.

"What do you mean?", James asked through gritted teeth, increasing his walking pace.

 _"Whenever I try to enter the system's mind"_ \- James rolled his eyes at that, bloody technopaths and their babbling about computers' souls and beings - _"It throws me out. And this is accompanied by pain."_

"Did you locate the server?"

James heard typing over his earpiece, the way Q's minions typed, since Q didn't need to, he just sat on his desk, staring at the screen with his mind lost in cables, wires and data.

 _"There is none. They tricked us into believing there is one."_ Q sighed, probably pushing his glasses up his nose again. _"Double-oh-seven?"_

"Yes, Q?"

Silence.

"Q?", James stopped, putting two fingers against the earpiece to hear the background noises in the branch, "Q? "What is wrong?"

_"The bomb goes off in ten seconds."_

James didn't need to hear that twice. He began to ran as fast as possible, burning doors in his way and running, keeping on running, but he had the feeling it wouldn't be enough.

The bomb would go off, and James maybe would survive.

_"Bond, two seconds."_

Two.

One.

James let himself fall on the ground, curled up and pressed his face against the ground to protect it, just hoping that the bomb wasn't above him and would cause pieces of the wall to fall on his back.

But nothing happened.

No explosion, no fire, nothing pushing him against the wall nor any rubble causing wounds or burying him underneath them.

He blinked and sat up again, looking around.

"Q, there was no explotion-"

There was a scream, echoing in his ear, and James took the earpiece out hastily, staring down at it.

It sounded like Q, but what was going on?

"Q?!", he asked loudly, "Q?"

 _"This is Alexandria talking, double-oh-seven. Q cannot answer. He is screaming and clawing at his temples."_ Alexandria gulped loudly, loudly enough for Bond to hear it. _"There is blood. He is hurting himself."_

A server made to send out a signal, one capable of causing pain to any technopath in the country.

It wasn't a server, James realised with horror, it had been a bomb.


	150. Chapter 150

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> silver-wingeddetective asked: As always, your fills are great. Thank you for sharing them. Can I request a continuation of the new technopath!Q and 007. A little elaboration of what happened then and after please?  
>  __  
>  **and**  
>  "OHH, can you continue the xmenAU story please!!”
> 
> __  
> **and**  
>  “If you take prompts at the moment, but if you’re still trying to work of those you have, ignore me) Continuation on the Mutant AU one pretty please? And… pretty please with a happy ending?”
> 
> __  
> **and**  
>  “Hello Darling! I loved your last prompt with MMI6, Can you continue it?"

James didn't waste any time and ran out of the building, trying to see if anything was going on here, but it was silent.

People kept on living normally, no one was screaming, no chaos. No gunshots, no explotions, **nothing**.

It was too calm and peaceful for James to like it, and running to his car, he tried to block out the sound of Q's pain, so strong and loud in his ear that he was tempted to shut his earpiece off.

But then, he wouldn't get to hear what happened to Q, and that was more important than his head and the chance of getting a headache.

"Alexandria, report."

_"We informed M, and he tries to find out what they are trying to accomplish. So far, there have been no attacks, nothing."_

Nodding to himself, James started the engine, and drove faster than the speed limit normally would allow, but this was an emergency and he couldn't give a damn about the traffic laws and rules.

"Did you manage to find out what causes Q pain?"

There wasn't any other technopath in Q-branch, nor in the whole building. It was nearly impossible for a mutation to be found twice at the world, since every DNA was unique and twins mostly didn't both possess an ability like that.

They had no way of figuring out if others were influenced by the bomb, and going to every hospital to check for patients screaming and suffering from a strong headache would cost too much time.

James increased the speed of his car, nearly knocking another one off the street as he raced past it.

 _"We have no idea, double-oh-seven"_ , Alexandria sounded panicked, so her hair was probably blue, if James associated the name correctly with the ability, _"He broke down and doesn't stop screaming, he is clawing at his temples and there is so much blood. It's like..."_

"He is trying to get to his brain to take something out", James finished the sentence, teeth gritted, "Get him into the protected room, and turn off all computers or machines. Now."

As there was no reply, he barked "Now!" loudly again, and Alexandria finally said something and then went off.

James cursed under his breath as he noticed he had began to melt the wheel, the scent of burnt wheel in his nose, his throat closing in worry.

It took him half an hour to reach MI6, and five minutes to get down to the emergency room, protected and secured against any mutations and powers. Not even telepaths could use theirs inside, it was built out of a special kind of metal, and blocked everything.

As he got inside, he saw Q laying on the bed placed in the corner, eyes closed, a bandage around his head and fingers bloody.

The technopath opened an eye as he saw James, sitting up slowly with gritted teeth, probably due to his headache. James hesistated, knowing there were cameras inside, but he would be damned would he care about that now.

He sat down next to Q, wrapped his arms around the slender frame and pulled **his** Quartermaster close against his chest.

Pressing a kiss to Q's head, he sighed. "I'm sorry."

"What for?", Q asked quietly, burrying his face in James' neck, "It wasn't your fault."

"Do you have any idea what it could have been?"

Q shook his head. "I'm not sure. It could have been a virus programmed to attack me instead of the system. Which actually is the same thing, because my mind was fused with the system's, but the wave signal wasn't made to destroy the system, but my brain."

James only nodded because he had no idea what Q just had said, but he seemed to be fine now, and once the team would say they could go out again, James would take Q home.

He pressed a kiss to Q's head, thumbs caressing his stomach. "You scared me."

"I thought you'd blow up, if someone had the right to be scared it was me."

Chuckling lowly, James heated his body up a bit, feeling that Q was starting to freeze and shiver. The younger sighed in relief, turned around in James' arms and cuddled against him.

James held him close, not caring that now, the whole MMI6 knew that they were a couple.


	151. Chapter 151

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: I requested this some time ago, but my laptop was faulty at the time and I'm not sure if it got through or not. AU, no MI6. James is out at a choir concert and is taken in by one of the soloists (no guesses who :) ). After the concert, he goes back to the stage door to find him.

It wasn't hard to get into the backstage area of the concert hall, especially not when everyone was too busy congratulating the choir for their successful performance today.

James had to agree, they had been good, but they weren't the reason he was in here. As well as they had sung, it had only been one person who had caught James' attention.

A young man, maybe even a boy, with curly black-ish hair and a voice like an angel, far too high for a man, and hauntingly beautiful.

_Where the bee sucks, there suck I; in a cowslip's bell I lie..._

The Tempest, Shakespeare. James knew this piece by heart, and he knew those lines, but he had never heard someone sing like this. He wanted to hear the talking voice of the man, to know if it was the same, because if yes, he wanted it to be his.

Not only the voice, no, but the boy itself. Such a creature of the light, endangered, and James' presence would bring flaw and darkness, but he didn't care. He wanted him.

Finding the room with the name written down in the list of solists, Benjamin W. singing _Where the bee sucks_ , he knocked and waited until he was invited inside.

James stepped inside and cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the young man in front of him, jacket already off, white shirt and suspenders a bit undone.

"How may I help you?"

His voice was just as light, pure, James realised, it was like staring into an angel's face and feeling its light, so many thoughts inside James' head that for a moment he forgot how to speak.

The last person who had this effect on him was dead now, but the longer James stood there the clearer it got that he didn't want to turn around and leave.

"I just wanted to congratulate you on your performance of _Where the bee sucks_ , if you'd allow me", James offered the most charming smile he had, making sure his body posture was open, not wanting to scare this creature of light, "I have been impressed."

"Thank you, sir", Benjamin gave a short smile, then turned around and completely undid his suspenders, hanging them over the chair next to him.

James could see a bit of his skin, pale, white, smooth, and imagined how it was to touch him.

"Is there, by chance, a possibility to hear it again?"

Benjamin turned around to James, raising an eyebrow. "A private performance?" He titled his head in thoughts, before shrugging. "If you wish."

Smiling, James closed the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he watched the boy focus, clear his throat and then start to sing.

_"Where the bee sucks, there suck I. In a cowslip’s bell I lie. There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat’s back I do fly. After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now; under the blossom that hangs on the bough..."_

James had closed his eyes and opened them now again, seeing how the young man looked at him in interest. By now it probably was clear that James wasn't just here to compliment him, and the fact that he wasn't thrown out yet gave James some hope.

Hope. What a strange, foreign emotion to him.

"Do you happen to be free this evening?", James asked with a charming grin, "I would love to take you out to dinner."

"I happen to be, yes."


	152. Chapter 152

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> erynaceous asked: Hello, are you still taking prompts? Earlier, you reblogged a photo-set of Q in which you mentioned Q stating the obvious is kinda like the behavior of someone with a mental disability, and I was wondering if you could write something off this? Not multiple personality disorder, like that one you wrote before, but something like Aspergers?

"Q, you need to eat."

Q didn't react for a moment or two, too distracted by the movie they were watching, cup of tea and bowl with pasta laying forgotten in his lap.

James sighed to himself and reached over Q, careful not to accidentally brush the younger man or touch him unnecessarily, picking up the remote to pause the movie. Q would have his head would he turn it off completely, but this way he would focus on eating.

Q turned his head towards James and stared into his eyes without blinking, eyebrows slightly narrowed in the silent question of _'Why?'_

"Your noodles are getting cold."

Taking his own bowl with noodles, ham and some dressing, James ate a mouthful, raising his eyebrow pointily at the Quartermaster.

Like predicted, Q didn't pick up on that, but at least he looked at his bowl and ate a few noodles, and James took it as a sign to start the movie again.

Five minutes later, the fork lay in the bowl again, and Q stared at the screen without blinking, lips moving without any noise, speaking along a scene he had never seen before perfectly. James watched him for a moment, before tapping against Q's wrist, only enough to make his lover twitch and nearly let the cup fall.

"Eating, Q."

Q said nothing, but the sparkle of something his expression couldn't show caused James to smile lightly. For Q, every little mimical change was alike a breakdown for the ordinary and average mind.

He barely smiled, but when he did James wanted to embrace it and repeat the action which had triggered it over and over again, because Q's face resembled an angel when he smiled, and made him look younger than he already was.

When he looked sad, there was a dullness in his eyes, and James made sure to make him happy again. It was a strange kind of relationship, but they both were strange men, Bond even more than Q despise what everyone said.

James took the remote and turned down the volume a bit, as there was a loud explosion on screen. Q's shoulders sank down a bit, a good sign, a bit of relaxation after a day of nearly shutting down and freaking out.

James wondered what had happened to Miranda, but pushed the thought away again quickly. One didn't take Q's mug, one didn't take Q's _stuff_ , especially not when it was on the desk.

Did no one read the papers?

"Q", James mumbled and tapped against the bowl, its _clink_ finally making Q eat.

Bare, naked noodles, without anything, no salt, nor any dressing or ham, just like Q wanted it. Heaven forbid a kind of food touched another one.

How he loved Q and his little quirks.

"Food. Before it gets cold."

Maybe one day it would settle in Q's brain as one of his precious rules, but until then James would have to remind him over and over again.

Q ate four spoonfuls of noodles, then drank some of his tea, swallowing twice even though his mouth was empty just to make sure none of the food was inside before he added something new, something different of another kind and form. Unlike James who knew how to properly eat and behave, but preferred to just eat at home, and not care about what it might have looked like.

It took Q an hour to finish the bowl and another ten minutes to empty the cup. In this time James had have to pause the movie more than four times, and had to remind Q five times to eat.

They made progress, a bit at least.

"Tell me about the project you geeks are working on at the moment", James said after they settled down on the couch, Q between his legs, the younger's head on James' shoulder and his body curled into him sleepily, "You all seem to be exited about it."

Q's eyes were closed, but James knew they were sparkling as Q began to rant about numbers, terms James didn't understand, but as long as Q was obsessed with technology, James would listen to him.


	153. Chapter 153

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flyyen asked: You mentioned in your earlier posts that Q was probably very introverted and polite in his childhood, and didn't make much friends. However, he probably felt pressured by his parents to find a companion. Can you write something where he tries to make a friend?

Emily was a nice girl, with beautiful blonde hair, gentle to everyone and with a laugh which made Benjamin smile a bit each time he passed her.

School was horrible, for a person like him. It was loud, so many people who expected him to talk and play instead of leaving him alone with his books, and full of children of his age, ripping out pages, spitting on the ground or pulling each other's hair.

The other boys were animalistic, and Benjamin - he actually would prefer would they call him _Q_ , it was an unique letter and he loved it _q_ uite a lot - had decided that if his parents would want him to find a friend, he would choose one of the girls.

Emily was nice. She did a lot of talking, but Q was good in listening and nodding at the right moments, and she liked reading.

He had read that giving a girl a flower was the appropriate way of asking her for a relationship, and Q was fairly sure that a friendship was also a kind of relationship, so he asked his mother for a flower out of her garden one morning before pre-school.

He hadn't answered her question about why, but only had said it was for someone he wanted to befriend, and it was the first time since father left that he had seen her smile.

So he was doing something right, apparently.

Emily was always there before everyone else, her father was one of the teachers and took her along in the morning. She sat there in a purple dress, her brown-ish hair in a pony tail, and she was reading a book with less pictures than her last.

Q carefully approached her, trying not to allow the thoughts of _turningaroundandwhyamIdoingthisIdon'twantto_ to take over his mind and make him turn.

She had already seen him, and smiled at him. She lost a tooth, he noticed, there was a gap in the row of front teeths.

He held the flower out to her and looked on the ground, putting his weight on the other foot, switching them nervously. He was trying to not stutter as he asked her if she wanted to be his friend, and tried not to panic as she stood up.

"Sure!"

Q blinked and looked up to the slightly taller girl, seeing her bright smile and the way she looked at the flower in awe.

Handing it over to her, he ignored the two boys storming into the room, throwing sticks at each other like bombs.

"What is your name?"

"Q-Q."

"Oh, that's a cool name! What does it mean?"

Q shook his head and blushed, staring at his feet. He felt like an idiot now and was about to mutter an apology and leave again, but she took his arm and dragged him along to a girl who just had appeared, introducing him to her as _'My new best friend Q!'_

Q's blush got worse, deeper, and the other girl giggled.

They put the flower in his hair, stating that it looked cute, and then talked to each other, letting Q sit there in silence with his book.

_As they were old enough to realise that playing with a boy was stupid and that boys were icky, they stopped talking to him and only gigled about him._

_As they were old enough to realise that not talking and only reading was weird, their giggles turned into laughing, and the hands muting the noises now were stretched out towards him, with pointing fingers._

_It was fine. He'd tried._


	154. Chapter 154

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Do you know "The Tempest" by Shakespeare? If so, have you seen the 2010 movie? Ben Wishaw plays Ariel! If you do know the Tempest, could I please have a fill where instead of Prospero freeing Ariel (Q) from the pine and taking him into service, it's Bond? Thank you.

"Well, look what we have here", James muttered under his breath, closing the door of his car and taking a step towards this tree, an eyebrow raised in interest.

He hadn't expected to find something here, despise what their trackers had located. A strange, unknown source of energy coming from the depths of a forest on an island, not far from England but far enough to take a plane.

James had no idea why he had been sent, he wasn't the best magician and by far more talented in physical and mortal combat, but who was he to argue with M?

She had turned him into a frog once already, he didn't need to go through that again.

The tree was a cloven pine, old, strong and high, almost taller than the ones around him. The only pine by far, and surreal considering its strange shape.

Its center looked like a face, but it didn't feel like an ent as James reached out mentally, his essence brushing the creature's.

It wasn't sleeping, nor dead, James realised as his power was pushed back by a stronger, older one, heavy and thick in the air, _old magic_ of the elder times. Ancient, almost, and like a sigil, a rune perhaps, somewhere written or carved into the wood to banish whatever this was into this tree.

James rolled his shoulders and sighed, trying to remember the words.

_Blasted magic._

"I command thee, creature, to come out of thy hiding", James mumbled little enthusiastically, holding out his hand in a grotesque and ridiculous motion of power and magic.

"I command thee to show thy face."

He had to thank M for this brief summoning-lesson, it was shortly after James repeated those lines for the third time that there was a blinding, illuminating light, and in a matter of seconds, there was a naked, strange creature, half-solid, half-transparent kneeling on the ground, its hair stuck in strange and weird angles, and its eyes staring at James.

"Who banned you, spirit?"

"Sycorax, the witch Sycorax did, my lord, and she trapped me in a cloven pine for punishment." The sparkle of something amused shone in the spirit's eyes, something interesting for James who was used to spirits being emotionless and obeying without a second of hesistating. "You freed me, my lord."

"I did. What's your name?"

"Ariel, my lord."

Ariel. James had heard this name before, but he couldn't recall it, so he let it be.

M would be interested in this spirit and its power, but for once James thought that magic wasn't as bad as he had thought it to be.

"Well, Ariel, I freed you, and now you are mine to command. I'm taking you into my services." Bond turned and walked back to his car, not even surprised as the spirit sat on the passenger's seat, form melting with the seat, going through without much resistance. "Fix that."

"What, my lord?"

"The transparent thing, it's unsettling."

The spirit smirked and gave a nod, form going a bit more solid, less transparent, more alike a human.

"Is there anything my master wants?"

The word master shouldn't have filled James with dark pride, but it did and he tried to ignore it.

"One thing." He started the engine, turning the wheel to drive out off the forest. "The name's Bond. James Bond."


	155. Chapter 155

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Hello darling! You probably have a ton of request but your fics are amazing and I can't fet enough. When you have the time, can you write something where Q is trying to court Bond (through fancy gadgets and saving him from Eve, etc.) but Bond is somewhat resisting for various reasons. Thank you in advance!

"He's like eighteen."

Eve snorted, taking his glass away and drinking a sip, pursing her lips as the strong alcohol slipped down her throat.

"He's twenty-five, don't tell me you didn't read his file thrice already."

"I didn't-"

Eve raised an eyebrow at him and James fell silent, knowing that it was kind of pointless to argue with someone who had the insight in every single file access, inclusive by whom and when, how often and which parts. He hadn't stalked Q.

"It's compared to me. I'm two decades older than him."

"And?"

"Eve, you know as well as I do that this would not end well. Not to mention that M would have my head."

Eve handed him back his glass, and in one trained and precise sip, he downed it at once, alcohol burning in his throat in a familiar, almost soothing way. The curse of an alcoholic, James thought, rolling his shoulders.

"He made you an explosive pen", Eve stated, and James realised this was the _'If you insist on hurting and ignoring this poor boy any longer after this, I'll go and get him for myself'_ -speech.

"I lost it."

"Threw it against the villain, rather."

"It didn't explode."

"Pardon?" Eve sat up, pointing a finger at him. "Q spent five hours working on it in his free time, and you say it didn't work? You just messed it up."

James was silent, pouring himself another drink, and Eve sighed.

"He makes sure you have a week to write your reports."

"I finish them the day after anyway."

"Because you just want to annoy M, and because you secretly want to show Q that you can finish if needed." As James began to smirk and open his mouth, Eve groaned in annoyance. "No. Don't even start."

"But why, my dear?"

"You know why." Eve took another glass for herself, pouring a bit of the bitter scotch in it. It was a bit warm, but it was bearable, it gave it a nice taste. "But tell me, Mister James Bond, since when do you get cold feet when it comes to flirting and putting someone in bed? Is it because Q is a man-"

"No."

Eve nodded, leaning back again. "Then what is it?"

James was silent for a few moments, just sitting there, staring into his glass, so it was no surprise that Eve nearly missed what he mumbled against the rim of the glass as he drank a large sip.

But as she figured it out, her expression softened, she took his glass, put it on the table and wrapped her arms around him.

"You won't break him", she mumbled softly, feeling how tense he was underneath all those layers of cold, calculated control, "He won't die. He won't leave you."

"They all do", James said coldly, but that was the intonation of a broken man, who had lost hope and thought of himself as the worst criminal existing, punishing himself by drinking, fucking and destroying his body before age could.

The saddest people were those hiding it, and a man like James Bond hid so many things, it hurt.

"Q won't."

"He will."

"Shut up, and ask him out for dinner. Nice restaurant, not too many people, maybe even a private room. He likes Italian, and will melt under your touches if you pet his hair", Eve said softly, letting go of James again. "This conversation never happened, I promise."

With that she left, and he only could stare at her.


	156. Chapter 156

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: crack!Prompt: Q gets Bond pregnant.

"You are... what?!"

James merely raised an eyebrow in his hospital bed, all dressed in a white shirt and some loose trousers, blanket pulled up to his chest and new stiches above his eyes.

His expression was deadly serious, and Q feared that he was caught in a nightmare, possibly some sick joke and some camera team would come out from their hideout in the closet, screaming _'Loki'd'_.

This must have been a sick, very sick and stupid joke.

"I am pregnant."

Those three words in this combination should not have been possible, not in combination with _James' mouth_ saying _those words_.

 _I got someone pregnant_ , that he would have understood, but this?!

Sick. Twisted. Joke. Impossible. Impossible. **No.**

"You can't be pregnant. You are male. Annoyingly so", Q stuttered out and sank down on the chair next to James' bed, blinking against the shock creeping through him, "You don't have a womb. You don't have the _things_ required to be pregnant."

"Things?" James raised an eyebrow and titled his head a bit, leaning closer. "I am pregnant Q, they made tests. Ten, at least, and believe me the news already got around as quick as a virus or something else highly contagous."

"Pregnant."

James nodded slowly, like he was talking to someone mentally disabled. "Yes."

"Pregnant."

"Regardless of how often you repeat it, Q, it won't change the fact that _you got me pregnant._."

"Would you excuse me?", Q asked, standing up and slowly walking towards the door, swaying, legs week.

"Q?", James sat up and threw his legs over the side, about to jump on his feet.

"No, you stay in bed, you are pregnant and I swear you won't go on a mission in the next year or more-"

Q couldn't finish that sentence, because he fell on the ground, unconscious.

Bond snorted, sitting back on his bed again.

"He behaves like a woman when I'm the one pregnant."

He closed his eyes, sighing. Oh joy.


	157. Chapter 157

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> katyuna asked: Hello! First of all I wanted to say that I absolutely love your 00Q fics, and I look forward to reading them every day~ But I also want to ask you if you would write one about Bond and Q realizing that they were the lovers Robert Frobisher and Rufus Sixsmith in a past life, (It's from the film cloud atlas.) And what their reaction would be to finding each other again? Thank you so much!

"You shot yourself."

Q looked up from his tablet, a frown spreading out across his features. It looked so completely wrong, from where he was sitting on his desk, two computers, a laptop and a tablet surrounding him like a mental shield of technology and science, all screaming _'don't talk to me'_.

James sat down at the edge of the desk, invading his personal space and looking down at this curly mop of hair, trying to imagine it being cut a bit, a bit shorter, and less messy.

A sting of _something_ rushed through James, and made him wince subtly.

Q was sitting here, very alive and not dead, no bullet in his brain, and no tub around them, yet James felt the urge to take him into his arms, scream at him and ask him why.

But why _'why'_?

"Pardon?"

"You shot yourself, Q." James gave a sigh. "In my dream. You shot yourself, and then I found you in the tub."

Q turned away from him again, typing away on his laptop. "I'm not an expert about dream symbolism, but I think you might want to talk about this with the assigned psychologist."

For a few moments, James was silent, but he knew that something was going on. He didn't know what it was, but his feeling told him something was off, and that something wasn't right, and he would be damned wouldn't he find it out.

It was connected to Q, this... other version of him shooting himself and James finding him. And about a melody, which had not left James' head since then.

Jumping off the desk, James made a vague gesture with his hand and then turned to walk away. He stopped, however, because it felt like his heart was pulling him into Q's direction, with such a force that James gave up, turned, put a hand on Q's shoulder and spinned him around.

Ignoring the startled cry of _'What the bloody hell Bond-'_ , James lowered his head until it was on the level of Q's, pressing their foreheads together.

What happened now felt like flying, and like falling. It felt like being burnt and being born again, like swimming in an ocean of tears and joy. It felt like joy and happiness, about sadness, tragic and fear, _and James realised._

Q took a deep, shaking breath, sounding like a desperate sob, like an attempt to breathe underwater.

James opened his eyes again, looking into Q's, hands shaking though he had no idea why. He had no idea what he just had seen, had no idea what it was supposed to mean or how it was even possible, but all he knew and all he cared for now was that he had him back.

His Q. His love. His life. _His Robert._

He could freak out about this later, once he had Q in his arms, safe and secure and far away from any weapon with whom he could kill himself, no matter what.

James couldn't loose him again, not again.

"I believe there is another world waiting for us, Sixsmith", James mumbled as he saw disbelief in Q's green eyes, shining with tears, "A better world. And I'll be waiting for you there."

Q gulped audibly. "That's... that's impossible..."

James shook his head. "Do you have the mark?"

For a moment, Q stared at him in confusion, but then he nodded, and lowered his glance. There was so much between them, so many unspoken things, some traumas they would have to talk about.

James wrapped his arms around the younger man's waist and pulled him close, determined to never let him go again.

"I won't let you go again, not in this life, not in another."

Q nodded. "Doesn't surprise me."

James gave a light laugh, running his hand through Q's hair, petting it softly. "Can you play the piano?" Q didn't even get to answer that, because James shook his head. "Nevermind, of course you do. Come. Play for me."

"And what?", Q asked, shutting down his computers and tech, slipping into his coat.

"The sextet."


	158. Chapter 158

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 007 attempts to help Q improve Q's shooting skills, but James being himself just ends up flirting with Q. Thanks so much in advance! Have a great day! :)

"Now, focus on the target, and don't leave it out of sight."

Q gave a huff and rolled his eyes, lifting the gun and aiming for the head of the target right in front of them, unmoving, faceless, a bloody piece of paper.

"It can't move, James, it's paper."

"Are you even trying to let yourself be taught something or do I need to force you?" James' breath brushed Q's neck, too close for the younger man's liking, yet _just close enough_.

"Need I remind you who forced me to go here and who made me take a gun to learn how to shoot when I already am capable of doing so?"

James rolled his eyes and took another step forward, until his chest was pressed against Q's back, his breath brushing his skin, and skin to skin, so close that he could feel Q.

Fascinating, James thought, watching how Q tensed, knuckles around the gun going white.

"Focus, Q", he mumbled, leaning forward until his chin was on Q's shoulder, arm going around his waist, "Your target would have shot you by now."

"It's paper", Q breathed out through gritted teeth, giving a shudder as James huffed a chuckle on his shoulder, "It cannot shoot me."

"Just do what I tell you to."

"Are you always this bossy and controlling?" Q turned around in James' armes, obviously having miscalculated the action because now, they were even closer, chest to chest.

Q blinked, a faint blush spreading out across his cheeks, visible but enough.

"Well Q, to test that you'd have to allow me to take you out."

"So you can put me into bed?"

James titled his head, smirking. "So I can put you into bed, indeed. How interesting you immediately thought of that."

Q turned again and mumbled some insults under his breath, none charming, none really hurting, only amusing. James let go off him, but didn't step backwards, waiting for Q to lift the gun again.

With eased practise, Q released the safety, then aimed, finger at the trigger, ready to pull it-

"Dinner at seven?"

Flinching, Q's bullet missed the target's head and instead went straight down into his crotch. James wondered if destiny was trying to tell him something, blinking once in surprise.

"No."

Q freed himself of James' grip and walked out of the shooting range, putting the gun down on a table near-by.

"Wonderful, I'll pick you up", James called after Q, grinning.

"Fuck off."


	159. Chapter 159

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sisterraven asked: Hi! I'm the one who made the prompt for a psychic Bond, and your fill was so lovely! So, thank you for that! If you are still taking prompts, I have another. Whenever someone becomes head of a branch of MI6, they literally sign away their name. (Like the witch taking Chihiro's name in Spirited Away). So, while Q is willing to give Bond his name, he doesn't know it anymore.

He found James on top of the building, sitting with his legs hanging down and feet above the pavement underneath him.

Retreating to the roof like a sulking, petulant child, it was so unlike him, yet perfectly fitting. It described Bond's personality quite well, for a trained killer, ready to snap your neck when you did a mistake or turned into a traitor.

A bitter smile spread out across Q's as he sat down next to James, silently reaching out to take a cigarette and the lighter.

"It's not a sign of maturity to go and sulk on the roof, don't you think?"

James said nothing and simply stared at London underneath their feet, cars and people filling the streets and pavements, of all colours, racec, backgrounds and personalities. None of them knowing that their lives were in danger nearly every day, and none having an idea about what they did in this old building they were sitting on without much respect.

This was the closest Q would ever get to break the MI6 rules, as inofficial they were.

What he planned on doing, however, went straight against the rules MI6 had set, and Q was risking a lot doing it.

They could fire him, and let him go back into the world, without a name. No life, no family, nothing to go back to, and if they really were capable of doing that, without any memory.

Bond was worth it (hopefully).

"You are sulking."

"I am trying to enjoy the view on early London in the sunrise, Q, this has nothing to do with your refusal of telling me your name."

"Security clearance, Bond."

"I am a double-oh agent, I doubt there is a clearance level higher than mine."

Q nearly laughed at that, because _oh James, if only you knew_. It was naive, cute almost.

There were so many layers of levels and codes above James, too many to put into words, and too many secrets worked into them, too many for even Q to understand.

"Have you ever seen the movie Spirited Away?" James was silent, and Q sighed. "A young girl signs away her name and doesn't remember it from then on, since it is not hers anymore."

James finally turned his head into Q's direction, watching the younger man exhale smoke into the grey sky, lips formed to an _O._

"Obviously not." Q tried to think about a way to phrase what he wanted to say, but his choices were quite limited. 

Bond was used to the obvious, obvious stimuli with easy information. So the direct and blunt way, it seemed, this could turn out to be really annoying.

"I signed away my name. Every single head of a branch signed away their name, and it now belongs to MI6. It's not ours to tell anymore."

"Funny. If you don't want to tell me, Q, just say it. Lying seems to be rather immature."

"You could torture me for my name and I couldn't tell you, because I can't remember it." Q paused, looking up at the sky lost in thoughts. "The old M knew it. She sometimes said it suited me, but I cannot remember what it is. It's not in my file anymore, because there is _no file._ "

"You must have a file from back in your civilian days", James titlted his head, eyes sharp, "A name just cannot disappear."

"So tell me, double-oh-seven", Q said and raised an eyebrow as he stood up, grinding the cigarette underneath the sole of his shoe, "What is your name?"

James blinked. "James Bond."

Q snorted. "The first double-oh-seven in the records had the name James Bond." Q turned, walking away slowly. "And so had the second, and third, and every single double-oh-seven agent until you were recruited. You are the one who was in service the longest so far. Impressive, for your reckless attitude."

He could hear James stand up and expected to be stopped, but none of that happened.

"But Kincade knows me under this name."

"Ask yourself why, double-oh-seven", Q only said, opening the door to the staircase, "Our names belong to the MI6, and it will be like this until they fire us or we die."

Most likely the first option, Q thought, closing the door behind him.


	160. Chapter 160

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Something with Q being away from Englad somewhere in Greece for some peculiar reason of your choice and Bond trying to find him? (your stories are awesome!)

"Move a bit."

Q did as told with little time in between the words and his action, just squirming to the side a bit. He blew out a bit of smoke into the air, blue and cloudless above his head, with the sun shining down.

So unlike Britain, he found himself thinking, so terribly colourful and hot.

Silently, Q held up a cigarette and Bond took it, accepting the lighter without a single word.

They sat next to each other, smoking, and looking at the ocean in front of them, their toes getting wet as a tiny wave reached them in the sand.

It probably was the only corner where no one else bothered them, and probably the only corner an introvert like Q could relax outside, without any internet connection, phone signal or contact to his beloved internet whatsoever.

James blew out some smoke, watching it rise.

"I thought you didn't like flying?"

"I came by ship."

Humming, James looked at the Quartermaster from the corner of his eyes, taking in his pale skin, extremely standing in contrast to the inhabitants of this country - Greece. It would have been one of the last ones James had expected him to be in, yet he had came here first.

Gut feeling, and it never was wrong.

Not even with unpredictable, intelligent nerds.

"All the way for a nice view of the ocean?", James asked, sounding none-judging and a tad bored.

Nothing was exploding. No bombs, no gun shots, no adrenaline. Just the bloody, boring ocean, the waves and the occasional cry of a bird.

"I needed rest."

"From?"

Q let out a long breath. "MI6."

James frowned, turning around so he was facing Q, legs crossed and trousers full of sand, for which he would make M buy him another, better and more expensive one. One of his favourite trousers, of all things, very expensive, and tailored.

Now, it was full of sand.

He didn't even want to think about the fabric underneath his arse, which he was sitting on - naturally - at the moment, in the middle of this beach.

"Already growing tired of your position?"

"An agent died."

James raised an eyebrow. "They tend to do that, yes." He watched Q carefully, but the younger's eyes were fixed on the water, staring at the sinking sun and at the reddening sky, the evening slowly pushing away the day and the light.

For a moment, James asked himself where Q left his glasses, but he probably worse lenses or saw everything blurry.

It was an interesting look, made him appear elder, more mature. His face was thinner this way, James noticed. Eyes not as big as usually.

"She was eighteen."

Ah. James pursed his lips for a moment, seeing where this conversation was leading to. He had no idea what to say, if saying something would be wise thing to do or not, and if he should or should not have offered comfort.

"Field agent or-"

"One of my minions had to accompany an agent to Vietnam to be available immediately in case she was needed." Q took a drag, breathing out grey-ish smoke. "They raped her, shot her in the head and took her hand off. While I and the whole branch were listening."

James was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"You are not, but thank you."

They, once again, fell into a comfortable silence, mutually needed and iniciated. James smoked and watched Q from the corner of his eyes, trying to see a weakness which wasn't there, trying to see any sign of the weight becoming too much.

"When does your flight back go?"

"In seven hours."

Q hummed. "You were convinced of being able to find me, weren't you?"

James shrugged, and stood up, trying to get as much sand as possible off his trousers. Just as he was about to turn around, Q's voice stopped him.

"My ship back goes at ten this evening. Why don't you stay?"

Well, James thought, he had been sent to find Q and make sure that he was alright, if that meant relaxing in the sand, James had to for the Quartermaster's sake.

He sank down again, ignoring how Q snorted.

An order was an order.


	161. Chapter 161

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Hello! Can you continue the chapter 57 that you wrote on AO3? :)

Q's therapy didn't go as well as James, Eve and probably the whole MI6 hoped, James could tell.

There was no change in Q's body weight, he didn't get heavier, he didn't get some healthy colour and he didn't eat regularily, and daily.

James tried, he really did.

He had taken away everything Q could hurt himself with, every knife, razor, blade, needle or weapon of that kind, had assigned at least one minion to always look at Q when he worked and to never leave him alone, and finally had moved in with him.

He had hoped that it would happen under different circumstances. That Q would ask him to move in with him, and that James didn't have to break in and force him to, but it was for his own health and for his best, regardless of how Q glared at him like it was James' fault.

"Have you eaten today?", James asked as Q returned from work in the evening, a minion probably having shut off his computer so he had to go, the bag being thrown on the ground and the three layers of coats, jackets and jumpers being taken off.

The temperature in their flat was too warm for James' liking, hence his shirtless and sometimes naked pacing around, but it was the only temperature because of which Q didn't shiver like he was about to turn into ice.

Anorexia had the side-effect that the ill one was freezing all the time, and it fit.

"No."

Q passed him and went into the bathroom to change into his pyjama, far too big for his slender, skinny frame. It slipped down his shoulders, released visible collar bones, visible _everything_.

James tried not to worry, he really did, but it was too late for that now.

He **was** worrying, and it was new, horrible, distracting, bad.

"You know you have to."

"You know you are being an annoying arse?", Q stopped in the doorframe and took a deep breath, rubbing at his left wrist with the fabric of his shirt.

James knew what he wanted to do and stood up, walked over to him and wrapped an arm around Q's waist, pulling him close.

Q's skin was ice cold, and he was shivering a bit.

"Don't", James whispered, "You don't have to."

Q let out a shaky breath. "Let me, please."

Something inside James broke and he shook his head, guiding Q to the couch gently. He wrapped him into two blankets and put a pillow under his head, stroking the curly hair before going into the kitchen.

He cut some fruits and brought them back, a soft smile on his lips as he saw Q like this, all warm and fluffy, nearly not visible under the blankets and the duvet James had taken out of their bedroom.

"You don't have to, Q. I promised you we'd get through this, and we will."

He offered Q a piece of a banana, relieved as he saw him swallow it after chewing on it.

Q managed a banana and half an apple before he was too tired, and James made a mental note to ask the minions to keep fruits in the kitchen at Q-branch.

He wrapped his arms around Q and held him close, closing his own eyes. He didn't sleep, he didn't dare.

There was no way he would loose Q.


	162. Chapter 162

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> griffing07 asked: "Hi could u do a fic with no one knowing about bond and qs relationship but then there's this party or something fancy I don't know that includes ballroom dancing and James suprises everyone by asking q to dance including q sorry I've seen loads of art of bond and q dancing and would love a fic thank u you R an awesome person."

"May I have this dance?"

Q could feel his blood freeze in surprise, mild horror and wonder, feeling dozens of glances laying on him.

Bond just stood there with this charming smile of his, eyes sparkling in amusement as Q wasn't capable of saying anything for at least two minutes. Everyone else would have left by now, or would have repeated the question, but James did not do such a thing and just patiently waited.

"What are you doing?", Q asked quietly, trying not to move his lips too much.

He was sure that someone in this room, filled with MI6's agents, the finest and the smartest, could read lips, and he didn't want to give him or her too much opportunity or space.

Give them an inch, they'll take a mile. Thousands of them. And your whole belonging, including your sanity.

"I'm asking you to dance with you, Q, in case you missed my question", James smirked, "And, just in case you wanted to know, you are not helping with your confusion. Everyone already thinks I lost my mind."

Lowering his glance, Q looked down at James' hand, seeing some people watching them from the corner of his eyes.

Those dancing hardly cared, but Eve - in the arms of an agent Q didn't know personally, but had heard of before - was looking at him with a grin, _this bastard of a woman, probably already knowing what was going on._

"I'm tired of hiding it, Q", James mumbled, still offering Q his hand, "I'm tired of having to find excuses of why I'm not sleeping with women during missions anymore, and I know you are too."

Q blinked, silent, and James sighed, about to draw his hand back again.

Quickly, Q lay his own into it and twined their fingers while standing up, mumbling an excuse towards the minions he had been sitting with, their amused snickers and giggles accompanying him to the dancefloor.

James' arm came around Q's waist, with ease and softly, the other hand stayed twined with Q's, and after three seconds, he began to lead, the waltz slow and nothing but elegante.

"Everyone is staring", Q mumbled, feeling how he involuntarily had to smile.

It was surreal.

He was dancing with James, his formerly-secret-but-now-not-so-secret-anymore boyfriend, in front of the whole MI6, M and Eve and everyone else they had been hiding it before, and that meant that the time of hiding and acting was over.

Q felt some kind of satisfaction, and happiness, and smiled, letting his head drop on James' shoulder.

"They better do", James mumbled, pressing a kiss on Q's curls, "Because otherwise this message won't be seen by enough."

"Message?"

Q looked up and saw James smile, before he leant down to let his lips brush Q's softly. Q titled his head up, kissing back for the short moment it lasted, lingering longer than necessary.

From somewhere in the back of the room, a squeel was audible, and Q rolled his eyes.

Typical for Eve.

He kissed James again, and wrapped his arms around his neck, both of them hardly moving off the spot they were standing on, too distracted.


	163. Chapter 163

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "hi babe! first let me tell you that I love your fills <3 could you write one in witch james is on a mission and he doesn't know if he'll make it out alive so he tells q he loves him (and everyone at Q-branch hears). but then he makes it out alive and fluff everywhere, if that's not too much to ask. XXXXX"

_ “Double-oh-seven, report. What is going on?” _

Q tried not to let his panic be audible, tried not to show just how worried he was. Everyone around him was focused on the screens, on the computers and on the big one in front of Q, all watching how James moved, trying to dodge bullets.

Even from here, Q could feel his pain, and as he saw how another bullet brushed him and left a bleeding mark, he felt like vomiting.

Or crying, and crying until James would be back in England, safe and secure, with perhaps a few scrapes, but nothing serious.

Q wasn’t a religious man, but he silently prayed to whoever was listening that James would make it out alive.

“I’m a bit busy at the moment, Q”, James hissed into the earpiece, another shot echoing in Q-branch, a man falling down in one screen and hitting the ground in another. There was a blind angle, and James chose to directly hide there.

Q couldn’t see him, and that worried him more than it should have. The signal was there, the red dot blinking, and he could hear him. Everything was fine.

Except for that it wasn’t.

_ “Do you need back-up?” _

“No, don’t send anyone in”, James said immediately, the sound of him changing the magazine for a moment the only kind of audio Q heard, “Q?”

Q blinked. _“Yes, double-oh-seven?”_

The agent suddenly was visible again, going from his hideout straight towards the men shooting at him, no bullet miraculously hitting him. James threw his gun away after shooting five times, then picked up a rifle and began to shoot again.

_ “Double-oh-seven, what is wrong?” _

The video connection suddenly flickered, went out for a moment before it was on again. A minion behind Q cursed and began to type furiously, others were too distracted by the conversation their Quartermaster held, by the way his shoulders trembled and his eyes went wide, to care about the video.

“I know I was quite hesitant to say it, but I’m sure you already figured out why, and I sincerely apologise for that-“

_ “Double-oh-seven?” _ , Q breathed out, eyes going wider than they already were, tears shining in them. No, James couldn’t, he was alive, why was he talking like that?

“I hope you won’t be too angry at me for not returning, dear.” Some minions looked up, shock written across their faces. “But I want you to know that I love you, and have had for a while now, but couldn’t say it. I’m sorry for that.”

_ “James-“ _

The connection suddenly died, and the last thing Q heard was a shot before the dot went out, and no more noises came out of their speakers.

Everyone stared at Q, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, hoping – praying – that it would work again.

With a muted sob, he turned around and left Q-branch, running once he was out of sight, and ignoring how a minion called for him in horror.

** xx **

Three days had passed since Q last had heard of James, three days in which he had worked on auto-pilot, sitting in front of his desk and doing nothing but staring at the screen in front of him, always a cup of tea in his hand.

His minions knew better than to talk to him, some tried but got no reply, some just knew and didn’t attempt to.

M let him be, Eve let him be, they all let him mourn and grief.

Only one person didn’t, but he was a bastard, and an arse, and Q hated him and he loved him, and it all was just fucked up.

Someone lay a hand on his shoulder, three days after James had disappeared, and a thumb caressed his skin, softly, with rough skin.

Q let his mug fall, the shards flying over the floor, tea spilling over the tiles, and turned around, staring at James with wide eyes in disbelief.

“Hello, Q”, James said softly, smiling, “I hope I didn’t let you wait too long?”

Q did what was the only reasonable and logical thing to do: He slapped James twice, then wrapped his arms around his neck and began to cry, cursing and swearing and sobbing, and James held him, neither caring that the whole branch was watching.


	164. Chapter 164

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "you're a wonderful person for taking all these prompts and your writing is gorgeous. if you're still taking prompts... can i have a view of stable relationship between bond/q/M(mallory)? preferably over something dirty that happened in M's office over that huge mahogany desk. ahem. (they're my kinks but there are very limited fics with them ;A;) thanks before!"

M always watched first.

This was a fact James came to realise shortly after they had settled this very special kind of agreement, at the first time James had bent Q over this ridiculously big mahagony desk in the middle of M's office.

The cameras were all turned off, and Eve had strict orders not to interfere, nor let anyone inside.

There was something advantageous to soundproof walls, and something very fascinating about being watched as he fucked his partner against the hard wood.

M always watched first, and did something later, and James didn't bother it as much as it should have - in fact it didn't bother him alone.

He still remembered the first time, about how shy and awkward Q had acted, not knowing what to do nor how to act, and M had licked his lips with hunger visible in his eyes, a hand on James' shoulder.

"How about you go first, double-oh-seven?", M had asked him, and what else could James have done but fuck Q against the desk roughly, drawing moans and cries from the smaller man's mouth.

He didn't know why M did it, but he hardly cared.

It allowed James to fuck Q and later watch him come undone, as he was already sated, a bit exhausted and settled down on M's chair, trousers hanging at his knees and would he have been a bit younger, he would have got hard for a second time in a few moments at the sight in front of him.

There was a difference in how they took Q, and James assumed it was because Mallory was a married man, not used to be allowed to hurt and bruise.

Unlike James, who knew Q could take it, and loved to.

M always watched first, and then James, and Q never complained, no. It was their agreement, their silent pact and their deal, and it was something good for the three of them, so why bother and try to change it?

James had a weakness for Q. Perhaps it even was love. He knew Q had a weakness for him, and they both had this weird kink of liking to be watched, and Q somehow liked being ordered around.

And who could have been better than their mutual superior?

James leant back in the seat as he watched M's muscles tense, visible through his white shirt, and listened to the grunt leaving the other man's mouth at another thrust, making Q cry out and his body tremble in need.

He thrust in again and again, getting quicker and less precise with each, and James knew he was about to come.

With a last push of his hips forward, Mallory came deep inside Q, and the younger man followed him, his come spilling over the desk and onto a piece of paper M hadn't taken away.

"Nothing important", M said later, as he and James sat on his couch next to each other, Q laying on their laps, his head in James' and his legs thrown over M's, the elder men both dressed while Q was naked, and sleepy like a cat, "Just some empty threats from the Americans."

"Do you want me to take care of it, sir?", James asked with a lack of respect, seeing the two of them as dominants, and Q as the submissive, as sick as it was, it made him smirk.

Sir out of his mouth was nothing but a formal thing, and the 'M' didn't mean anything too.

Sir out of Q's mouth was something pure, honest, and dependant, and it was music in James' ears.

"No need to, double-oh-seven." M reached out, caressing Q's hair, making the younger man humm sleepily. "Enjoy your day off."

They enjoyed it twice today, since M had no meetings, and by the time it was over Q's hips were covered in bruises shaped like fingers, different big and long.

Neither cared, their agreement let no place for jealousy, _it wasn't needed._


	165. Chapter 165

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt : James loses his wedding ring... He is afraid of Q reaction. Thank you."

"Q-"

"You lost the ring, didn't you?"

James blinked, taken aback, eyes widening slightly as he looked at Q's back. He could only see the messy mop of hair and his shirt, and some of his pyjama's fabric, but nothing more since the rest was hidden underneath the duvet.

Q was sprawled out on the bed, like he owned it, a cup of Earl Grey next to him, but far enough away to not accidentally be spilled all over the keyboard and hardware.

"How did you figure it out?"

Q hadn't even turned around, and James' left hand was hidden in his pocket, so there was no way Q could have seen it, yet _he knew it_.

"Security camera behind you on the wall, and in the corridor. You didn't bother hiding your hand out there."

Ah, of course. Q always checked the cameras when he heard someone get past his security, and really, James should have known it, but the worry and embarrassment had made him blind for this.

One day Q would be the end of him, and James was very well aware of that, just like Q was.

"Are you angry?"

Q hummed. "Angry at you for not being careful enough to not loose it, yes. Angry at you for getting wounded and shot at, of course, but I'm always angry at you for that."

James, after taking off his shoes and socks, after throwing the jacket on the nearest chair and undoing his tie, sat down on the bed next to Q, watching his fingers fly over the keys. He smelled of tea and technology, of oil and gunpowder, so he just came back from work, probably knowing that James would come here immediately after being forced to medical.

"You know what I meant, Q."

"I'm not angry at you because of something I expected to happen."

James frowned. "Expected to happen?"

He could see how Q rolled his eyes, and had to huff.

"You manage to loose a _car_ in a country with less than five percent of the population owning one, a wedding band was more likely to disappear."

Q turned his head towards James, eyes red from not having slept in days or hours at least, dark circles under his eyes and skin pale, almost white.

"James, I'd be an idiot wouldn't I have expected this to happen", Q mumbled softly, and leant over to press a kiss on James' cheek, right where the bandage was.

Scratch, nothing serious, only a bit blood, a few stitches, done.

Q always worried too much, James thought, watching how the younger man got up and opened the bottom drawer of their bedside-table.

He took out a box, opened it, and something inside _shined_.

James blinked a few times in disbelief, because he just didn't see at least twenty or more wedding bands laying in a box hidden in the bottom drawer of their bedside table, and he didn't feel how Q slipped the cold metal on his finger, nor did he realise that Q kept copies of his wedding band..

At least twenty of them, or more.

"Did I really just-"

Q hummed, getting back to his computer. "As I said, James, I'd be a fool and I'm anything but."

James let him work in silence, for once stunned and not having some witty, snarky comment and come-back.

Q kept copies of his wedding band in a box.

This paranoid bastard.


	166. Chapter 166

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Pocket!Q, 00q prompt? There's a strange genetic mutation in the world that makes some people pocket-sized. Every 00 agent has their own pocket sized quartermaster. James just happens to love his."

"Q, get up."

Q only turned in his bead, burying his face in the pillow and making a sound close to a whine, not being in the mood to stand up, nor do anything close to productive at the moment.

After spending hours of trying to persuade James into **not** going this way but the other, and not throwing the gun out of the helicopter just because he could, he thought that he deserved some sleep. At least a little bit.

Only until he didn't feel like exploding and biting into James' finger whenever he picked him up, that couldn't be too much to ask, right?

"Q, up you get."

Someone picked Q up and he cursed under his breath, cracking an eye open.

It had taken some time to get used to waking up with a giant looking down at Q and grinning at him, and to get used to suppress the urge to scream in surprise and fall off the closet by flinching, and by now all Q did was blink a few times and consider biting into James' finger.

Said finger which now, with the aid of the thumb, was holding Q up by the hem of his shirt, lifting him up to his face.

Q approximately had the size of James' hand, thanks to the mutation, but even he managed to glare at the bigger one in annoyance making blood boil and freeze at the same time.

"Was that so hard?", James asked, speaking lowly to not hurt Q's head with the volume of his voice, "You're a terrible Quartermaster if you can't get out of bed to assist me."

Q huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Assist you? Excuse me- no, excuse you."

James raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, excuse you."

"And why should I?", James asked, slowly putting Q down on the bedside table again, next to the tiny matchbox-bed, and the little box filled with Q's clothes.

He turned and picked up a cup of tea, hardly being able to hold it in his hand without dropping it, and putting it on the table as well.

Q, for the sake of not bitching at James further, drank the tea silently and sat down on the bed, stretching his legs out and wiggling with his naked toes. His pyjama was fluffy, comfortable, custom made for someone of his size.

He was quite fond of it.

James had made it for him, after wasting far too much fabric in an attempt or two. Q didn't know how many, but he had found the bin full of wasted fabric later.

"Your next mission will be in five days, double-oh-seven", Q got up and sipped at his tea, thankfully stepping on James' hand as he offered it to him and carried him around, "The equipment will be brought to you soon, I think. I didn't get a message so far."

James only nodded and put Q down at the edge of the washbasin, and then took the pyjama as Q stripped out of it.

Q could feel the glance laying on him, burning and intense, and stopped as he already had his feet in the bubbly water, blinking a few times at the agent.

"Is something wrong?"

"No", James immediately replied, leaning down.

Q tensed in surprise and confusion, eyes widening as James got closer and closer, until his lips brushed Q's head and pressed a kiss on it.

"Don't worry your little head."

With that he turned again, and went into his own tube, sinking down into the water. Q somehow, magically, managed to get to him and sat down on James' shoulder, shaking his head.

"You're an idiot."

"I know."

Q turned and kissed James' cheek, closing his eyes.

He felt a hand underneath his feet and before he knew what James was doing, he was being lowered into the water carefully, a hand always underneath him to hold him up.

"I could drown."

James shook his head. "I won't let you."


	167. Chapter 167

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hey, I've been following this for a while now and I must say: you're awesome! English isn't even your first language and you still write so birlliantly! Could I make a prompt of Dom!Bond Sub!Q? Thanks."

"Have you been good in the time I was gone?", James asked, putting his hand on Q's head, stroking his curls softly.

The younger man hummed and rested his chin on James' knee, the rug soft underneath his naked skin, fluffy and warm, cosy even. He felt it as he wiggled his toes, and as he carefully moved his hands a bit where they were twined, kept together by the chains James had bought on his latest mission.

They were warm inside, leather, and metal at the outside, and he knew he couldn't open them - _he didn't have a single chance or choice, and it was relieving, calming even_.

"Yes, sir", Q mumbled against James' trousers, rubbing his cheek against the knee, smiling contently.

James hummed. "Have you really? You were a good boy and didn't touch yourself?"

Q tensed under James' touch, a shiver running through his spine, and James knew.

The thing Q had not wanted to happen had now taken place, and as Q looked up he could see how James' expression had turned cold and blank, and how his teeth were gritted.

He closed his eyes, expecting a slap or that his hair was being pulled roughly and brutally, but nothing happened.

James just was sitting there, his hand not moving anymore and his glance hard - he was practically doing nothing, and that worried Q more than it should have, because it was the calm before the storm and the storm would be horrible.

Q took a long breath and tensed more, his body trembling from the tension he put on his muscles.

James' hand suddenly disappeared, only to find its way to Q's chin, titling it up almost softly.

"Ssh", James whispered, and Q opened his eyes, "I won't hurt you, love, but you disobeyed. And I'll have to punish you for that, you must understand that. So you won't do it again." James' finger carressed Q's chin, moving up to his cheeks and then his hair again. "Why did you disobey, Ben?"

James never used his code name when they were alone, sometimes even when they were on a mission. He said that he wasn't the dom of Q, but of Benjamin, and Q didn't know whether to be bothered by it or not.

He gulped audibly, squirming on the ground. "You were gone for so long, sir, I-"

He wet his lips and lowered his head, feeling like he was being a disappointment.

James had have so many wonderful, trained and experienced subs, all obeying his every word immediately, all doing what he wanted them to do.

And now he had Q, who had have no experience with any of this as James had brought it up, and who still felt so terribly awkward and wrong.

He was being horrible, and Q knew it.

"I-I just... couldn't..."

"The temptation, mmh?"

As Q said nothing, James' grip on his chin got tighter, and he pulled on one of Q's curls, and Q realised his mistake and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Answer the question, boy."

"Y-Yes, si-sir."

"Yes sir, I'll answer the question, or yes sir, I was tempted and not strong enough to resist?", James' voice was cold, but it still had some kind of warmth on it, a softness Q mentally embraced and kissed because it meant that James wasn't angry nor annoyed.

"I wasn't strong enough", Q mumbled, "I'm sorry, sir."

James made a clicking noise with his tongue and let go of Q, waiting until the Quartermaster opened his eyes to look at him.

The agent patted his knee, raising an eyebrow at Q who stood up and lay on the couch, arse on James' lap.

"Five slaps, Ben, and you'll count them."

James let his fingers ran over the naked flesh of Q's buttocks, smiling as he could feel a shiver run down the younger man's spine. He lifted his hand, before letting it come down.

The noise of flesh hitting flesh, of a slap echoing in the room, was the only kind of noise for a moment, until Q's silent, tense voice said "One".

Another slap, two.

Another one, three.

James waited for a moment, watching how there was a red mark beginning to form, the shape of his own hand, and something possessive inside him growled in satisfaction.

He let his hand go down again, harder this time, drawing a gasp of surprise and a squirm from Q.

"Four", Q stuttered, squirming again, and James felt that he was getting hard because of this, "F-Four..."

"Good, you're a good boy, you're doing so well", James praised, caressing the skin for a moment to wait until Q was calming down again.

The last slap drew a moan from Q, and quickly he turned him around, wrapped a hand around Q's member and swallowed the "Five" he wanted to say by pressing his lips on Q's.

"Now come", James mumbled against Q's lips, "I missed you and your nice arse. You were a good boy, I'll give you what you need."


	168. Chapter 168

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Still taking prompts, I hope. How about: q doesn't say it of course, but he cares about the agents he handles even tho bond is THE favorite. They figure that he cares, but it was never obvious until something causes all the 00 to be vulnerable n exposed again n frankly, Q isn't having any of that nonsense threatening his agents. Let the BAMF! n protective! Q come out to play. I thank u in advance if u do take up this prompt :)"

"Tell me again, double-oh-seven, how did we manage to get caught?"

James tried to glare at 003 sitting in the corner, but it wasn't really threatening nor impressive with a bloody wound on his temple and his hands chained together.

Double-oh-four in the other corner grunted in annoyance, regarding her nails with faked interest, long enough to claw eyes out, painted in a bloody red ( _"So if I kill someone the blood won't mess up my nails"_ ).

On the ground next to James, double-oh-eight lay unconscious, hands and legs tied together, and tape over his mouth from where he had dared to insult the kidnappers earlier.

It was a mystery to James how someone had managed to not only track every single double-oh currently in service for Her Majesty's Secret Service, find them and knock them out, but also to somehow manage to keep the MI6 out of this.

Judging from the cut in James' shoulder, someone had taken out his tracker, and he wasn't sure about the ones he didn't know the location of.

Double-oh-four let out an annoyed breath and once again tried to dislocate her shoulder far enough to get out of her ropes, but bedsides a painful grunt from her and a disgusting cracking, it was of no benefit.

She sank back into her corner, and glared at James who glared at her, all very annoyed, pissed off, adrenaline creeping through their veins and anger. James had tried to rip the chains off the wall, but they were fixed, and he couldn't move.

Well, at least this was something new.

It was the first time in a while he had seen the other double-oh-agents, and it has been more than a year at least since they had been together in one room.

The first time they were kidnapped, someone had to celebrate it.

"How am I supposed to know that?"

Double-oh-three snorted. "Usually it's you went shit happens."

The only woman in their group raised an eyebrow. "Language."

"Shut it, I don't want to die with you idiots in one room, or let myself be saved by any of you."

James turned his head in 004's direction and smirked, making her chuckle. Apparently, they were thinking the same, which was refreshing. A bit of entertainment in a situation like this never was something bad.

"Don't worry, _Charles_ , would I be able to get out I wouldn't help you to save your pride", 003 snorted as James spoke, and stuck his tongue out, "And would anyone ask, I'd tell them you died in a heroic way before we could get out."

"Oh just drop it, Bond, in case you haven't noticed it yet we are being held hostile. We, the double-oh's, that's kind of embarrassing."

004 nodded in agreement, trying to nudge 008 with her foot to wake him up. The man only grunted, and stayed on the ground, no movement of waking up nor of consciousness.

"It's us three against an unknown number of enemies, it seems", James said and tested his chains again, wondering how far he'd come would he throw himself off the chair forwards, "Three killers, one being unconscious, against some armed villains."

003 grinned. "Feels like my last Birthday party."

James rolled his eyes. "Invite me next time, I'd have brought cake."

"Explosive?"

"I'm sure Q would have came up with something."

Double-oh-four groaned in annoyance and threw her head back, wisps of her hair covering her eyes. "You and the Quartermaster, I thought they weren't supposed to do favourism."

"Yes, it's like we don't even matter-"

"Now now, double-oh-three, that's rude."

James felt as if his eyes were falling out of his head, because while he had heard the door being opened he had figured it were the kidnappers, but no.

There was Q. _His_ Q with a rifle in one hand, and a key in the other, earpiece visible in his ear despise the messy curls and the general mop he called hair.

Q. What the bloody hell was he doing here?

"Q-"

"I'm fine, double-oh-seven, unlike you four. Really, getting yourself kidnapped by such imbeciles must be embarrassing." He walked over to them and opened their chains, fingers lingering on James' reddened wrists softly, concern written in his eyes.

"How did you find us?", 003 asked, shaking 008's shoulders to wake him up.

"Tracking device in James' back."

James blinked. "There's a tracking device in my back?"

Q nodded, shouldering the rifle and putting the key away again. He smelled of gunpowder, James thought, narrowing his eyebrows. He had used this gun, had possibly killed someone.

His little kitten had killed someone, James thought with a sting of pride and worry, wondering if it had affected him in any way or not.

Q seemed calm, but he was a good actor, James knew.

"Yes and one in your leg, but let's not go into detail about how I did that without you noticing it", Q said with a sheepish grin, taking out a gun and releasing the safety in a fluid movement, "It came in handy, didn't it?"

"Why are you here", double-oh-four asked with confusion in her voice, "And not some agent?"

Q turned to her, his expression suddenly cold. "Someone dared to attack my agents, and I won't have any of that. Why sending someone in if I could do the job as well?"

His agents?

Oh, Q was like a mother-hen, James realised, having to smirk, almost like a protective wolf or kitten trying to be threatening.

A kitten with a gun, knowing how to use it, he corrected himself.

"Shall we? You'll have to step over a few corpses, but well, you should be used to that."

James was the first to follow, and the other three agents followed in stunned silence.


	169. Chapter 169

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hello, I was wondering if you could write something along the lines of Mpreg!Q losing the baby and the fallout it has on his and Bond's relationship."
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> “I would give blood for more tortured!Q. I can’t explain why. I just love it."
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> "Hello first off I have to say your writing is amazing. I was wondering if you could do a prompt where Q was pregnant but he loses the baby and the follow out of that for him and James.”

Q coughed up blood, some spilling on the ground, some on his shed clothes, soaking the fabric and turning it deep red. James didn't know where to press his hands on, which bleeding to stop, and sat there helplessly.

There were dried tears on Q's cheeks, white lines through the dirt on his skin, almost grey instead of the usual white.

So much blood, James thought, there was so much blood, and he couldn't see Q's back, because he was laying on it, facing the wall.

"J-Jam-James-"

Q coughed again, and for a moment James thought he could see his ribs through a nasty, deep cut on his chest, right across his chest and stomach, down his belly.

James' blood froze, and he felt like his world was falling apart, like everything was breaking down.

_No._

_That couldn't have happened, no, not-_

"Q... Q have they..."

Q only sobbed and despise the pain it cost him lifted his arms to put his hands on his cut-open stomach, _so much blood, so much blood, far too much, which was Q's and which was the child's, was it even far enough to-_

"Q, please answer me, have they... have they..." James blinked tears away, not knowing if it were tears of pain, horror or saddness, if he was angry, pissed off, or simply traumatised, if he wanted to kill those bastards or cry.

Q nodded weakly, and ignored how his hands were red, he kept on pressing them on his belly, rubbing it softly as if _it_ still was there, ignoring the blood.

"J-James", he rasped out, tears running over his cheeks again, and James felt one or two dropping out of his own eyes, "I'm- they... they-they..."

As Q began to cry loudly and shook in pain, James closed his eyes, clutching his hand into a fist.

He held Q until the paramedics were there, and as he stared down at the mess on the ground, he wondered which was Q's blood and which would have been their child, would it have been given more time.

xx

Q wasn't the same since the kidnapping, and neither was James.

The young Quartermaster drowned himself in work, and when he was at home, he stared into the distance or sat on the ground in the floor they had started to paint in purple for their child, the crib and cradle and everything already having been ordered, the date had been set, and they had been happy, and now?

James was desperately trying to hold something broken together, not caring that he cut himself on the shards, and that Q didn't seem to care, or be capable of noticing it.

He was slowly drifting away, and all James could do was watch.

It was one of those evenings Q was at home, and he was sitting on the ground of the empty room, staring at a half-painted wall of purple and white, and he was pressing a hand on his stomach.

James had thought about trying to convince Q of trying it again, but neither of them would survive this again.

They wouldn't, and they both knew it, so James was silent, and let Q have the space he needed.

This night he slept alone on the couch, and Q on the ground in the room. James lifted him up and carried him into the bed, wrapped him into blankets and kissed his forehead.

They were fine.

_They weren't._


	170. Chapter 170

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hi! I really love your work and I'm always looking forward to your next installment. I think my previous prompt might have gotten swallowed but I wondering if you could tackle a Q with a stutter. Maybe he's perfectly fine when talking shop but discussing anything else causes the nervous tick to show up. Bond takes this discovery in stride."

“No, you… you don’t understand. I-I am sure… I-I’m certain ...”

James looked up from his phone with narrowed eyebrows, suddenly very confused about the way Q talked.

The shop owner, an elderly lady with glasses thicker than Q’s and an expression of pure annoyance written across her face, only stared at Q with a raised eyebrow, finger tapping on the list of people having bought rings here.

The complete opposite to Q, who was looking like a lost, kicked puppy. Confused, unsure, and bothered by this all, bothered by a silly misplacing of the rings they ordered.

Apparently they weren’t on the list, and Q was trying to discuss with her, which didn’t seem to go that well.

James folded his hands in his lap, torn between coming to the rescue and watching for longer, because Q was completely out of element, and it was interesting to watch.

“I can assure you, sir, your name is not on this list”, the lady repeated, blinking once, “I don’t make mistakes.”

Q’s shoulders sunk down a bit, and he began to chew on his lower lip.

James wanted to cuddle him, wrap his arms around him and make sure that no one could hurt him. The poor kitten.

“D-Did y-you… did you check? I-I mean, you could just have… overread our names. James Bond. We-We don’t have the receit anymo-more but…”

The stutter was new, James had to admit.

It either was because Q was nervous, or because he was used to talk about computers, or help agents through missions. James was sure he had never been in a situation like this, having bought rings in this shop and being sure about it, but not getting what he wanted to have. They paid here, James knew it, but his amusement was bigger than his worry, so he leant back into the comfortable armchair and watched.

“Yes, I checked. There is no James Bond in this list.”

Q helplessly turned around to James, eyes wide and huge, shining in a way which made James’ heart melt.

“Check for Arthur Sydneys.”

While the lady looked down and read her list again, Q frowned at James and the elder gave a smile. Charming, calming, and hopefully enough to not make Q snap at him in public. He didn’t want to be the source for Q’s anger, as attractive he was being angry and pissed off.

James shrugged at Q’s silent question, and as the shop lady said that she had found the name and went into the room behind the official saleroom, Q approached James and glared at him.

“You-you booked them on another name?”

James nodded.”An alias of mine. I didn’t want to risk you or me because of this.”

Q let out a long breath. “Y-You c-could ha…have told me…”

“And missing the fun of seeing you stutter?”, James grinned, “It’s cute. Nervous habit?”

The younger man nodded and then turned around, the lady handing him over a box and something to sign on. James stepped next to him, wrapped an arm around Q’s waist and then signed as Arthur Sydneys, a totally different signature than his usual, neat one.

Q didn’t say a word until they were out of the shop, his cheeks heated up in a delicious pink.


	171. Chapter 171

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hello, I love your work and that you seem to take on anything a prompter throws at you. I was wondering if you could do an Alpha/Beta/Omega or creature 00Q where Bond scent marks Q to keep others away from him. Q doesn't realize Bond is doing this because he wasn't raised to be properly aware of Alpha/creature dynamics."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _James and Q are shapeshifters or werewolves in this ficlet, but the Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics still apply._

It was rare that Q and James had some time alone with each other, because James either was away on a mission or Q distracted by his work, drowning in paperwork, codes and missions, but when they did, they spent it in their wolf form.

Q was tinier, by a lot.

His form had the usual height of a wolf, a bit tinier perhaps since his human form was thin and bony, lanky. He had black fur, fluffy and curly, and bright green eyes, and as an Omega he had his Alpha – James.

A big, strong wolf with blonde-ish fur, slowly going into grey, and with the shoulder height double of a wolf. Trained to be strong, fast, dominant, the perfect killing machine and Alpha.

Also very sweet, and with an affinity for licking Q’s neck, sometimes spending hours just doing that, his tongue lazily lapping at the fur on Q’s neck or licking over his belly.

Sometimes he lay on top of Q, with the Omega safely tucked underneath him, only his snout visible, and sometimes he curled around him, but somehow James always touched Q, even at work.

Either by simply holding Q’s hand, slipping an arm around his frame, kissing his nape or petting his hair. James always was around, touching Q, kissing him, and Q got confused by it, but figured it was the usual behaviour of an Alpha wolf, showing everyone that Q was his.

It wasn’t until someone mentioned it that Q realised that James’ way of showing Q to whom he belonged was not the touching, but the scent.

Q’s parents hadn’t been like him, he being one of the shifters born to human parents, which was rare but it happened. They hadn’t known about the typical dynamics and rules, and their knowledge had been from the Internet only. Q had figured out he was an Omega, had known he could get pregnant and that he sometimes went into oestrus, but that was it.

He hadn’t known that there was such a thing as… scent marking.

He had known that mates found each other by their scent, and remembered how James had sniffed at Q in the Gallery, only to tackle him againts the wall in the HQ and growl at everyone daring to get too close, and he remembered how James’ scent had filled his nose and how he had realised that this was his mate, his Alpha.

But scent marking? That was new.

He and James had been bonded for a while by that time, and James had done his licking-Q’s-neck-whenever-they-were-in-wolf-form-thing, as a new minion had set his first steps into the branch.

A young Alpha, and unbonded, a fact Q hadn’t told James yet in worry he would scare the minion off.

Said minion, Q thought that he had been called Quentin, walked over to Q’s desk and offered his hand to shake it, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled Q’s scent.

His hand fell down again and his eyes widened, and he had taken a step backwards, politely introducing himself before going and taking the desk the furthest away from Q.

Confused about that behaviour, Q had returned to work, but the confusion had nagged at his brain, chewed on his mind, so the next evening he asked James what had happened.

“He smelled me on you”, James mumbled, taking off his clothes in preparation to turn. As Q blankly stared at him, James sighed. “I scent-marked you, Q. Everyone can smell Alpha on you, so they know you are taken, and if they know me they recognise the scent as mine and leave you alone.”

“So… the licking?”

James nodded, stretching his arms and back, muscles flexing under scarred layers of skin.

“To mark you. You are mine Q, and everyone has to know it.”

“Why not a collar then?”, Q joked, but as he saw something alike thoughtfulness written across James’ features, he stopped in the motion of taking his cardigan off, “No.”

“Well it would-“

“No.”

Q turned, jumping on the couch and making himself comfortable. The couch made a squeeling noise as James joined him, immediately starting to lick Q’s neck again.


	172. Chapter 172

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "more pocket Q please! it's so adorable!!!"

“What if I say no?”

M raised an eyebrow at James and simply turned around again, her shoes making clicking noises on the ground as she walked through the empty corridor, past some guards and agents walking into the opposite direction or disappearing in some rooms.

“You have no choice, double-oh-seven, it’s compulsive. This isn’t a kindergarten for it isn’t voluntarily.”

“But a pocket-Q?”

“It turned out to be very practical and of an advantage, and we therefore decided to assign one to each. The latest Q functions as the Quartermaster for all agents, of course, but each has its own.”

James glared at Tanner and then at M’s back, hoping that she would turn around again and say that this was a joke. Because it clearly had to be. Carrying around a pocket human on missions, trying not to get himself and the miniature human killed and also being successful?

James wasn’t known for an excellent quote when it came to returning the equipment, and he doubted that they had a closet full of pocket!Qs just in case James managed to get another one killed.

M nodded at the guard in front of a door, and said opened it.

Inside, there was a table, three chairs and a screen on the wall opposite to the door, and on the table there was a tinier one, miniature custom design.

And, on a chair behind said table on the table, there was a tiny human being, working on a mini-laptop. His fingers flew over the tiny keys, working quicker than James was with a gun and precise, and after a few moments James realised that what the tiny man was writing was visible on the screen.

Lines, lines of codes and numbers, rushing over the screen in a rapite pace, too fast for James to even try and decode something.

The pocket-human had a mop of black curly hair, glasses with a thick rim and wore a cardigan with an apparently knitted tie, dressed like a doll and not like an actual human being. James blinked and stared at him blankly, because this man hardly looked older than perhaps twenty, and already was a Q? 

He couldn’t quite believe it.

“Double-oh-seven, this is Q. He is your new Quartermaster.”

Q stopped typing and looked up as James sat down opposite to him, the pocket-human not even having the size of James’ face, perhaps not even of his hand. Easy to be put into a pocket, quite handy and convenient, but a joke.

James had seen his fair amount of pocket humans, had accidentally and purposely killed some, and the thought of working and listening to one was actually quite stressing and annoying.

“Double-oh-seven”, Q said with a polite tilt of his head, getting back to the typing and glance fixed on the screen of his laptop.

“Q.”

M and Tanner turned around to leave, but M stopped and glared holes into James’ back causing him to look over his own shoulder and directly into her steel-blue eyes.

“Don’t you dare break him, double-oh-seven, he is not a gun you can just destroy. You won’t get another one.”

With that the head of MI6 left and Tanner followed her like the obeyant dog he was, leaving James and Q alone.

“Your first mission will take place in Serbia, the elemination of a criminal organisation”, Q said without looking away from the screen, but the typing had stopped, his fingers resting and still, “Your equipment is ready.”

“Are you?”, James asked, leaning down until his face was inches away from Q, noting that the pocket-human had a distinctive, posh accent, Oxford perhaps.

Q scowled. “I’m not your equipment. I’m your Quartermaster.”

James offered his index finger and Q wrapped his hand around it to shake it, the glimpse of a smile curling the corners of his lips up.

“Ready for the flight?”

Q’s expression went blank. “Don’t remind me.”


	173. Chapter 173

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> runemarks asked: "Hello, I'm always excited to see an update to your drabble posts. I never know what you'll hit us readers with next. Do you think you could do always deaf Q? Except maybe he can't be Q because of it, but he's no less of a genius. I would love it if Bond could already sign before meeting him."

Q held his prime hand with his index extended, hand-shape making a small circular movement, and his glance confused, and James had to blink once or twice before he realised that it had been.

The current Q was the second one James had worked with, but he was the youngest ever, as far as James was informed. An extraordinary mind, brilliant, challenging others to try and emulate him.

He also seemed to be the first Q with an obvious disadvantage, the first Q having a disablility.

James stared at the younger man who kept on signing, fingertips of his hand left – apparently his prime one - touching the tip of his thumb twice, and then a fist except for the index extended and the thumb raised – _007_ , James realised.

Q was signing in the British sign language, so he was mute. Perhaps even deaf.

James grinned, then signed.

His index, middle finger and thumb held on his left shoulder in the shape of a gun ***** , his eyes sparkling in amusement.

Q looked surprised, perhaps not having expected James to be able to sign. A mission had required it, and James considered it as advantageous. He would have never guessed that he would need it for communicating with his Quartermaster, one day.

Lifting his hand, the Quartermaster waved, and James waved back, before watching Q sign the instructions for his next mission.

A gun, and the description about how it worked – he signed China, computer, codes, and palmprint, and James figured he meant that it was coded to his palmprint, and that the mission would take place in China.

Q gave James an envelope, and a box with a gun and a radio, and as James signed ‘Not exactly Christmas, is it?’ Q laughed without making a noise, his mouth working a laugher, and James realised he was mute and deaf.

So he wouldn’t be the one monitoring James, or at least not the voice in his ear.

A shame, James thought as he turned around, leaving Q-branch to catch his flight.

xx

A few months later, after Skyfall, after M’s death, and Scotland and pain, James asked Q out to a date, and the Quartermaster agreed.

They went into a restaurant, ate, and ignored how people looked at them as they signed to each other. James ‘listened’ to Q’s story, about how he had been born mute and deaf, and how he had hacked into MI6 to show them how weak their system was.

James told him about how he had nearly lost everyone, how he had been recruited right off the Navy, and they laughed, smiled, and flirted.

Outside, in front of Q’s flat, James touched his chin with the fingertips of his bunched primary hand, then let it spring forward and opened it, and Q blushed deeply, a soft and beautiful pink James kissed as he leant forward.

Q turned his head and their lips brushed, and in the night they shared their first kiss.

It was a month later that Q pressed the palmsof both of his hands on his chest twice, then on James’.

James smiled and kissed him, mumbling it against Q’s lips, knowing he would understand.

**_ (* That is truly, and I’m not kidding, the sign for James Bond. You can google it.) _ **


	174. Chapter 174

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Could I prompt a 00Q Mob AU, please? I think that this is a thing I need in my life."
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> "Can we have mob!00Q? I think this is one of those things that I never knew I needed, thank you! :) x”

"Quartermaster."

Q had long ago stopped flinching whenever one of the double-ohs, one of the best trained and most letal killers the MI6, appeared behind him like out of the fucking nowhere, just popping up and being there.

He sweared that they were doing it on purpose, see how violently they could make their Quartermaster flinch in hope he wouldn't send them into their next assignment with a water gun, painted pink with glittery flowers on the barrel.

He actually didn't care about why they did it, he just wanted them to stop it. It was getting unnerving and Q had already blown up the lap once, he knew M liked him but not _that_ much.

Q was sure that some of his minions would like to take over, and he was determined not to let them.

He was the youngest Quartermaster the MI6 had ever have, the most brilliant one they had saved out of the polices' claws, and he'd be damned would anyone dare to suggest him to step back, _and let the elders do their job_.

"Double-oh-seven", Q greeted back without turning around, fingers going still, carefully connecting two wires.

There was still a black spot on the wall from the last explosion a minion had caused, said minion now was working from underneath the earth. Monitoring from hell, some said jokingly, but Q believed them.

They were the British Mafia, there was a special hell for him, and he hoped it had free Wifi. Maybe even tea.

As Bond said nothing and only leant against the desk next to Q, watching him work, the younger man looked up and let out a sigh.

"What?"

"I've been caught by a camera", Bond replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "They know my face, now."

Which meant that Bond was a dead man, Q thought, throat and mouth suddenly dry, and fingers shaking. He put the bomb away, turning around and giving Bond his full attention.

"Where has the camera been located? In the main building, or outside? Just facing the target's house?"

"Opposite, pointing at the top window, the bedroom." James' body posture spoke of tension, because as much as James loved the danger, missions, the thrill of killing, shooting and fucking his way through his life, always risking said, he wasn't too keen on being killed by his own organisation.

There was a simple rule at the Six, and everyone knew better than to risk anything.

They had caught James' on camera, probably before or after the act, and would M find that out then he would either hand James over or kill him on his own, putting the corpse somewhere where it easily could be found.

Bond was an arse, but Q liked him.

Might have a weak spot for him, or might even have fallen for him, but romance and love was a lie, especially in their area of work.

Criminals didn't fall in love. They were fuck buddies, they used each other to still the beast and the urges, but love was impossible.

Q sighed to himself, wondering who he was kidding, and then turned to his computer, hacking into the police database. New Scotland Yard was in need of a new security update, he thought, easily finding the data he needed.

From then on it only took him a few minutes to find the camera, hack into the system, find the recordings and deleted them.

The usual procedure would have been to report James, and watch him being killed. To ensure that his corpse would be found and that nothing lead to their organisation.

But there was his soft spot, and potential crush, so none of that today.

"Don't let yourself be caught next time." Q sipped at his tea, turning with the help of his very comfortable chair to face the killer. "I can't clean up after you all the time."

As Bond flashed Q his infamous, charming and seducive grin, Q felt his cheeks heat up and bit into his lower lip.

"Of course, Q", James chuckled, a low, fascinating sound vibrating from the depth of his throat, and he stepped forward to ruffle Q's hair, "Thank you."

He turned again, leaving a flustered Q alone.

Such an arse.


	175. Chapter 175

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> iriswhisper asked: "Hi, first of all thanks for all your lovely fills, I have bookmarked the series in AO3. If you are still taking prompts, would it be possible for you to write another ficlet about pocket!Q? You wrote that Bond had made pyjamas for Q, can we have a story about this? Vielen Dank!"

“What are you doing?”

Bond looked down, kind of surprised about how quietly Q had managed to sneak up on him.

The tiny human sat on his knee, crossed-legged with his tiny laptop in his lap. The glasses were about to slip down, laying on top of Q’s nose, and James blinked as he saw that Q still was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, though he just woke up.

He turned his head, looking over to Q’s tiny bedroom on top of James’ bedside-table, but there were no clothes laying around.

“You don’t possess any sleeping clothes?”, James asked, putting his book down and narrowing his eyebrows, wondering since when Q-branch didn’t have enough budget to make miniature clothes, or why Q didn’t buy some custom made ones.

“Why should I?”

“Because you cannot possibly sleep in the same clothes you wore all day.”

Q blinked once or twice, before titling his head, huffing. “I can do what I what I want to, double-oh-seven.”

James watched in mild amusement as the pocket-human jumped off James’ leg again, making his way towards the table and climbing on top of it, disappearing behind his closet. If James would stand up and walk around it, he would probably find him sulking, an endearing and cute sight, not that Bond was concerned by cuteness, nor that he cared about such things.

He looked down at his book, then back to the table, then sighed.

xx

If Q was informed about the purchase of several layers of soft, fluffy fabric, he didn’t comment on it the next day, nor the following one.

He still was in his sulking-mood and attire, meaning that he didn’t speak to James besides the occasional _“Can you carry me to the bathroom?_ or the question about why Bond thought re-arranging the pillows Q usually used as a ladder was a good idea.

It gave James some time to wonder about why he was doing this.

It also gave him time to wonder about how he was supposed to make a pyjama for a miniature human without poking his fingers with the needle all the time, or about why he even wanted to make a pyjama for Q.

He just did, and that was it.

Turning the guide around, he tried to find a description about how he was supposed to attach the sleeve to the main part, and about how he could put buttons on such a tiny thing, but there was nothing there.

Bond made a frustrated noise and considered to throw the fabric on the ground and shoot at it until it was dead.

Maybe he should just go and buy one, but he didn’t want to strangely and he tried again, poking his fingertips and cursing under his breath.

“James?”

Bond looked up and titled his head, surprised to see Q standing there in an oversized jumper, with no trousers on. It didn’t matter anyway because the jumper easily reached his knees, and the sleeves were far too long.

It was a very cute sight which made James’ heart flutter, and he felt the corners of his lips twitch up in something close to a smile.

“Yes Q?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Q somehow managed to get up on the armrest of the couch and over the layers of fabric without tripping or stumbling, and ended up on James’ knee again.

The agent resisted to reach out and ruffle his messy hair even more, chaotic from sleep and his pillow. It stuck up in weird angles, half of it covering his face and the other half doing anything but being smoothened down as Q ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m making you a pyjama, if that is not obvious”, James answered, accidentally poking his fingers again, wondering why he wasn’t already bleeding on the green fabric he had chosen.

It would suit Q’s eyes.

“Why are you…”, Q yawned, sitting down and closing his eyes for a moment, looking as if he was about to fall over and asleep again, “Nevermind.”

“Because, my dear Q, this jumper is anything but suited.” He reached out with his index, poking Q in the stomach and triggered to lift the jumper up to tease Q.

Only to tease him, of course, not take a look at him. No, that would be pervert, and he wasn’t.

“Not suited?”, Q slurred out, blinking a few times.

“It’s too big.”

James turned and pressed a kiss on Q’s head, inhaling his scent and smiling. He finally managed to attach the sleeves to the main part, but now had to figure out how to make trousers.

He sighed, staring at his needle like he wanted to crush it.

“Thank you, I guess.”

Q curled up on James’ knee again, a tiny ball of messy, black-ish curly hair and over-sized jumper, closing his eyes.

While Q slept, James tried to make a pyjama.

The first one was horrible, but Q wore it anyway.

The second was better, and the fifth was good enough for James to feel proud. And he figured that, from the way Q beamed at it and wore it every evening and night, Q liked it.


	176. Chapter 176

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "You. Are. Epic! I hope you're still taking prompts! What if Q never left MI6? What if they kept him locked inside the building because he was too valuable. What if his fear of flying was their refusal to let him? What if they wiped his memory of his past life so all he could remember was being Q? What if Bond found out?"

"What do you mean, you have no flat?", James repeated, frowning at the younger man in front of him.

Q only sighed and turned around, getting back to work.

He was always working, James thought, watching how Q's fingers flew over the keys, eyes fixed on the big screen hanging on the wall in front of him. James wondered if Q was capable of doing anything else besides working.

They always stayed inside when they went to have lunch together, always eating in the cafeteria or Bond had to bring the food down to Q-branch to even make Q stop working for a moment.

Always working, always hacking, typing and coding, building guns and putting them back together after missions.

James had run into Moneypenny outside once, while she was out with a date and they had happened to be in the same restaurant. 

He had met M's wife first by coinsidence, as he had met Mallory and her on the streets, just walking because apparently that was what happily married couples did.

Walking.

All walking Q did was from his desk to the shooting range or up to M.

He, James realised with a frown, never left the HQ. And while some minions moaned about how they had last seen their bedroom days ago, Q didn't seem to mind.

Because apparently, he didn't have a flat on his own. Meaning that the hospital bed James had found him sleeping on in medical branch was his bed, and it wasn't a coinsidence that Q always was there when James returned from a mission, no matter how late or early it was, depending on the interpretation.

"You have to have a flat, Q. You cannot possibly tell me that you never leave Q-branch or the HQ", James tried again, seeing how Q turned around and ran a hand through his hair.

"Look, it's complicated."

"Do tell me, my _boffin_ ", James all but purred, amused by Q's eye roll.

"What if I don't want to, double-oh-seven?"

James blankly stared at him, knowing he would annoy Q quickly and he would give in. It always was like that. Q narrowed his eyebrows, checked if anyone was listening before his shoulders sank down in defeat.

James smirked.

This smile, however, faded the moment Q began to speak.

"The MI6 found me in a hospital, after I had an accident. I can't remember anything from my life before this accident, not even said, and they offered me a job. I can't rent a flat without having an idea who I am, right?"

Amnesia?

Accident, one he couldn't remember, and the MI6 had found and recruited him.

James' expression darkened and he turned around without saying another word, ignoring Q's confused "Bond?" for the sake of going up to M's office.

"You cannot be serious."

M looked up from where he was sitting in his office, sipping at a cup of tea which smelled like alcohol, so James assumed it was anything but the light beverage Q was addicted to.

Or thought to be, at least.

"Can I help you, double-oh-seven?", Mallory calmly asked and put his cup down, and James was five seconds away from punching him in the face and breaking his neck, but he only sat down, leaning into the chair.

For a moment, James considered just asking, but then he would probably not get a straight answer. If the current M was informed about that anyway, it could only be a plan of the old M, the one who James had lost his loyalities to.

_That bitch._

"I want to see Q's files."

M raised an eyebrow, folding his hands in his lap in a defensive posture. So he knew.

"And why that, if you don't mind me asking? His files are top secret, you might know."

"I want to know his name, since he doesn't seem to remember it", James said sharply, staring directly into Mallory's eyes as the elder frowned, "I don't think that this was an appropriate way of recruiting someone."

Leaning back, M pressed a button on his desk, and the red light of the camera was turned off. The camera was out, so this was off-records.

Bond leant forward, not breaking eye contact. "You wiped Q's memory, lock him into this building and expect no one to notice it?"

"We didn't expect him to fall for a double-oh agent of all people", M replied quietly, "No one else seems to notice. Only you." M gave a tight, faked smile. "Impressive."

Bond titled his head lightly. "Thank you", irony was audible in his voice, and from the way M's expression darkened he noticed it, "Why?"

"My predecessor considered it as a necessary step to take to ensure our Quartermaster's safety and well-being. We lost our last to an accident caused by civilians, and it was decided that some precautions had to be taken."

"So you decided to wipe his memory, make him believe he has amnesia and lock him in here?", Bond was getting angry, furious even, and gritted his teeth to not just leap at M and snap his neck in half.

M only nodded and drank a sip of his alcoholic tea. "It was the best course of action, yes. This way we cannot loose him to any events we could have prevened. He is one of our greatest assets, and too vulnerable to be left out of sight. I am sure you understand."

Bond only nodded sharply, stood up and left.

xx

"Let me take you out."

Q looked up and frowned, fingers hovering over his keys in stunned uncertainness. He looked up to the camera in the corner of his room, chewing on his lower lip.

James stepped closer, wrapped an arm around Q's waist and pulled him close, leaning down.

He made sure the camera couldn't see his lips move as he muttered something into Q's ear, drawing away to watch the younger man's eyes widen in surprise and confusion.

Q nodded, took his coat and allowed James to put a hand on the small of his back, gently guiding him out and glaring at every agent who dared to stare.

"Is that my name?", Q asked once they were outside, eyes huge, wide and confused, and all James wanted was to lock him away so no one could hurt him, but that wouldn't make him any better than M.

"Yes."


	177. Chapter 177

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I saw that you were working on an RP with 007 and Q as shapeshifters. Could you do a ficlet along the same lines, where they can tell each other are shapeshifters but don't know what kind, and they try to figure it out without the other one knowing? (sorry if it doesn't make a lot of sense, hahaha)"

Q told him on his own, after a night spent next to each other on his couch, Q drinking tea and resting his head on James' shoulder, while the elder's arm was around Q's waist, keeping him close.

It wasn't rare that shapeshifters hid who they were, simply because while it was legal for them to work, get the same jobs and though they had every right a human had there still was discrimination, so it was reasonable that Q hadn't told anyone.

For James, it was a sign of trust. 

It was known that James was one, but his form wasn't because he considered it as stupid to go around and tear people apart when he could just shoot them or break their necks - what did he need fangs or claws for?

So Q had known, but he didn't know what James was just like James didn't know what Q was. It tempted him, to go and tickle it out of the Quartermaster, but he really didn't feel like forcing Q to.

Curiosity was a common curse, but not for James' kind. He wasn't a cat, mind you.

He could patiently wait until Q told him on his own, or he could figure it out by spending more time with the other shifter.

"Stop thinking", Q mumbled against James' neck as they lay to each other in bed, something almost claw-like scratching over James' chest.

So not a bird, nor any animal without claws. That didn't help much, but it was something, and James saved the information in the back of his mind for future use.

"Mmh", James hummed, fingers trailing over the other's spine, going down to the small of his back, over his buttocks, "And what else should I occupy myself with?"

Q gave a silvery laugh, and James had to smile as he turned the younger man around, kissing him and licking his way into the other's mouth.

Q's tongue was a bit rough, and James made a mental note to research later.

xx

A rough tongue usually was associated with animals who didn't drink, but lick their beverages and liquids, mostly cats or dogs.

This kind of tongue was also very pleasant when licking over skin, and especially maddening when lapping at an erected cock.

James banished that thought again, because right now he was concentrating on stalking Q without getting caught. It wasn't something unusual for James to spend his time down at Q-branch, watching him and listening to him work or talk to minions in sotto voce.

His movements were concentrated and controlled, but had some elegance to them, each fluid and beautiful.

Sometimes he would huff, and would turn around to go and sulk, sometimes he would bare his teeth, all signs James had never seen before, but it was so obvious once a person knew what to look for.

Agents sometimes were trained to fight off the obvious signs for their special condition, but Quartermasters were not. A minion of Q's was a bird shifter, and as she had been pregnant she had started putting cables and gadgets on a spot as if to build a nest.

Those little traits usually betrayed a shifter, but James had not a single clue about what Q could be.

Feline, or canine? Something with claws, and with a rough tongue, but he had no idea what, the animal kingdom was too large and too many sub-species existed.

Q tried to be subtle about it, but he too was trying to figure out what James was.

James had been informed about someone accessing his file, and his medical examinations, and only one person was capable of getting through the security precautions and all those passwords. Only the person who programmed and upgrated them.

It almost was cute. James tried to figure it out by watching, and Q wanted to cheat.

Only that the information wasn't written down, the old M had known why.

It took Q several weeks to finally be curious enough to ask, and several weeks until James had an idea about what his lover could be.

They were laying in bed - somehow ironic considering where this game of playing Sherlock Holmes had started - together, curled up and legs twined, his arms around Q and Q's head on James' shoulder, as James reached out to softly pet Q's hair, scratching behind his ears.

Normally Q would just have hummed and leant into the petting, but he was still caught in the afterglow and haze of sex, pleasure and climax, so the sound vibrating from his throat wasn't a hum, but a purr.

It was a low, gravel sound which made James smirk, and he scratched behind Q's ear again, his other hand trailing down his spine.

Q arched his back and sprawled out a bit, still purring, fingers clawing at James' shoulder softly.

"Cat."

Q looked up and frowned, blinking a few times and yawning. "Mmh?"

"Cat. You can turn into a cat, correct?"

The younger sighed and nodded, sitting up again. The blanket slipped down his shoulders, revealing white, pale-ish skin shining like the moon, smooth and beautiful, and James leant down to press a soft kiss on the bruise he had left earlier.

"Domestic?"

Q nodded. "Yes. Longhair. Fluffy. Anything else you want to know?"

"Show me?"

"Only if you show me."

Q stretched, his bones cracking quietly. In one fluid motion, the human disappeared, and on its spot was a black, fluffy cat with green bright eyes, and a long tail waggling as he sat down on his hind legs.

James reached out and scratched behind his ears, making the cat purr and meow.

"Wolf."

Q rolled his eyes and shook himself. James snorted.

"That was uncalled for."

He too turned, and once he was in his wolf form, blonde-ish fur and blue eyes, muscular and big, he curled around the tinier cat, licking over his head.

Q meowed, wrapping his tail around James' paw.


	178. Chapter 178

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sarahellie asked: "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MORE deaf!Q! I absolutely adore this and I need more of it in my life for squeals. Please and thank you. <3<3<3 (love, tenpointsforq)"

Q crossed his arms in front of his chest, putting his left hand flat on his right shoulder and the right on his left, expression confused and mouthing _Love?_

James, only having seen the motion from the corner of his eyes, raised an eyebrow, and Q repeated it.

 _Yes?_ was the way James titled his head a bit as if to nod, mouthing the word with narrowed eyebrows.

Some minions, the newer ones, still were confused about this situation, and those mostly were the minions not listening to the elders explaining the situation. James had considered making M agree to one of the requirements for applying here was the knowledge of the BSL, but the man hadn't agreed.

Q had to carry pen and paper around with him, or at least his phone or a tablet to write for those who couldn't understand him.

They weren't listening, couldn't read Q's emotions or words from his expressions like James could.

Q pointed at a gun across the room where James was leaning against the wall, then drew the hand back to his chest, and James nodded, took the gun and handed it over.

Q smiled, mouthed _thank you_ and kept on working.

Most did not understand the way they worked together, because most thought the silence in their flat was unbearable. The way James came home after a mission and didn't call out for Q but walk behind him, wrap his arms around him and press a kiss to Q's cheek.

The way he always translated for him when someone didn't think about Q's disability, and the way he never spoke even though Q could read lips.

It was the way James trailed kisses all over Q's chest and felt him tuck on James' short hair, and it was the way his lips were parted in noiseless moans when James made love to him.

James wasn't bothered by the silence, not really. Sometimes Q turned on music and sat besides the speakers, feeling the vibrations and writing down the rhythm. He liked Bach and Schubert, and the notes he wrote down were wrong, but he got the pauses right.

He liked to sit next to James and rest his head on the other's chest, and feel the vibrations from James' voice when he talked. He once had asked how James' voice sounded like, and James had lifted his right hand with all fingers stretched, and with the index finger of his left hand he pointed down.

Q chuckled and asked _How deep?_ and James pointed down again, repeating it a few times with a smirk.

Sometimes, James wondered about how beautiful Q's voice would be.

Posh, probably softly spoken with a quiet, gentle voice. Probably higher than James', and he would have the most beautiful laugher in the world.

xx

A minion nearly let Q's mug fall down and Q pursed his lips, clutching a hand into a fist and knocking it against his left temple twice, anger sparkling in his eyes.

Hardly anyone understood why James let out a huffed laugh and reached out to take the cup from the minion trying to sign an apology with shaking hands, not as fluid as James' or Q's motions.

Q sighed quietly, lifted both of his hands and pressed his fingers together mouthing _Stop_ , before he turned around to James and let his head drop on the agent's shoulder.

Q-branch always was loud, constant chatting and muttering, clicking of keys, the sound of guns being repaired or cursing whenever someone made a mistake, the occasional cheer when a minion beat the other in speed-hacking or chess.

James didn't know how Q did it.

He would stand there, smiling to himself with his back turned to his minions, working and typing, now and then turning around and clapping so everyone would look at him.

Sometimes his clapping was silent, and sometimes it was loud, he couldn't tell the difference, and only knew the volume by the pain in his palms, depending on how strongly he had clapped.

But no matter how silent it was, someone would notice it and tell the others to stop talking and pay attention.

Only today, a minion didn't shut up, and kept on talking over the phone to what everyone figured was his partner, because he kept on flirting and using pet names.

Someone cleared their throat, and the minion raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Q wants to say something."

The minion snorted. "You mean sign. He's mute and deaf, idiots, he can't hear you."

Q had noticed that they still were talking and frowned, looking at R to see if he had an idea, but the man only shrugged.

Lifting his fingers, Q whistled, and everyone flinched.

The Quartermaster smirked. _So James was right about whistling_ , he signed, looking around into shocked or amused faces, _Too loud?_

They nodded.

_Do I have your attention now?_

They nodded again.

With amusement written on his face, Q lifted his left hand, thumbs up, and mouthed good, before he pointed at the screen behind him.

He lifted his hands, moving his fingers as if he was typing, mouthing the word, then clutched the left into a fist except for the index finger, holding the right like he wanted to claw out something, putting it over the index.

Someone sweared, turned and began to type, and the rest did the same.

Q rolled his eyes, mouthed _imbeciles_ and then turned his head, seeing James standing in the doorframe.

He smiled, blowing a kiss into James' direction and the agent smiled, before he went upstairs to M for a debriefing.


	179. Chapter 179

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feanarwen asked: Hello there! I know you've already had a similar prompt, but could I ask for Bond being surprised to randomly discover that Q could sing? (I BLAME ARIEL.)

"Be careful making wishes in the dark..."

For a moment James wondered if he was in the right building and in front of the right apartement, or if he had accidentally mis-read any signs of the number on the house-belt nametag.

He leant back a bit, fingers curling around the handle of the door, re-reading the name there.

It was one of Q's alias, with one of James' underneath, the right number, and even if the ridiculous security precautions would have made it obvious that this wasn't the ordinary flat of a couple which just moved in together.

Even the area, this part of London, spoke of security because it was close to the Yard, and also close to MI6. Not close enough to go by foot, but the tube station was close enough and if not James had his car parked right opposite to the entrance door. Opposite, right in front of a building in which three agents lived.

Coinsidence, of course.

Not paranoia and the fear that someone would go after their best double-oh-agent **and** their Quartermaster and kidnap them when they were discussing some minor problem over the newspapers, a cup of tea and a mug of coffee, sometimes two pieces of toast if James managed to make Q eat.

So right door. He could almost recognise Q's voice, but he honestly wondered what kind of kidnapper forced their hostage to sing.

He could vaguely remember that he heard this song before, but modern music was all the same to him, and he much preferred classical music over the screaming and roaring of young men with women falling to their feet.

Maybe in the radio on his way to the Six, or when he passed minions with youtube open.

"I just got to get you out of the cage", the voice sang again, some music playing in the background and the faint voice of what James figured was the original artist of the song.

It was Q's voice, of course it was Q. No one else managed to get into their flat.

But why would Q sing?

The better question was, James thought, leaning against the doorframe without opening the door because Q was in the living room, and he would scare him away by appearing - or rather, he would stop singing and James didn't want that to happen - why Q had never sung before and why he would waste such a beautiful voice.

Because even though James didn't know this song, he knew that Q sung it better than the original artist.

With a voice soft like honey, sweet and beautiful, innocent even, far too light for a grown-up adult.

There was a term for a voice this high, but James couldn't recall it nor wanted to, instead he focused on Q and the movements under his feet - was Q dancing too?

"I'm a young lovers rage", Q sang, the protest from their wooden floor indicating that he indeed was dancing, "Gonna need a spark to ignite."

A pause, the music got slower. James raised an eyebrow, imagineing that Q was holding his breath.

"My songs know what you did in the dark!"

The last sentence sounded dramatic, so the last before the refrain or climax? James had no idea, but it didn't sound like the song would be over soon, so refrain it was.

He had to smile. Oh this would be beautiful blackmail material, if only he had his phone on him to record it. Though he was sure that he could try and get the recordings from their cameras, if Q hadn't deactivated them or would delete them before James had a chance.

He carefully opened the door, seeing Q twirl around, barefooted, dressed in one of James' shirts and with nothing else on, a glimpse of his well-formed buttocks visible as he turned, one hand formed as if he was holding a mic.

"So light em up, light em up, light em up. I'm on fire! So light em up, light em up, light em up. I'm on fire!"

Q had his eyes closed, mouth wide open and body shaking along in the rhythm of the song, each beat making Q do something. And if it only was nodding along, or turning, sliding over the ground with his naked feet, right hand moving through the air as if he was painting.

James let his eyes roam over the flat, searching for a camera or his phone.

He needed a shot of this. He needed a record or something because as funny as it was he was impressed. He had never thought that Q might be able to sing, and had never thought that he had such a beautiful singing voice.

More suited for more classical music, he thought, watching Q turn his back to the door, shirt slipping up and revealing more of his smooth skin, white and soft under James' touch as he reached out and wrapped his arms around Q's waist.

The younger man nearly jumped out of his skin, turned around in James' arms and stared at him with wide eyes.

The music from his laptop kept on running, something along the lines of _All the writers keep writing what they write_. Deep, really, almost poetry.

"Oh god you listened to everything didn't you?", Q asked breathlessly, backing away a bit.

James held onto him and tightened his grip, pulling Q back again. He smiled lightly and kissed Q's forehead, torn between making him sing again or turning the music off. It was horrible, without Q's voice.

"I didn't know you sing."

Q huffed. "I don't."

"Why?"

"Because."

That wasn't a reason, but James didn't have the heart to tell Q that so he only reached out to the computer, but stopped as his fingers hovered over the touchpad.

"Sing again?"

Q blushed. "No. No bloody way."

James raised an eyebrow and Q sighed, mumbling something obscene and rude under his breath. The elder tutted and waited patiently, but Q kept his mouth shut firmly.

"Somewhere another pretty vein just dies, I've got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see that you're the antidote to everything except for me..."

Pleased, James grinned to himself and turned the music off, then tried to access their cameras. As Q noticed what he was doing he practically threw himself on James and cursed, ranting and shouting at James to stop.

"You should be forced to take a day off more often", James said later as they were sprawled out on the couch, James with a bottle of cheap beer in one hand and Q curled around his other arm, head resting on James' chest.

Q hit him on the chest and grumbled.

"If it makes you sing... quite amusing."

He took it as some kind of victory that Q said nothing and only turned around, burying his face in James' shirt which he fisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "My songs know what you did in the dark" by Fall Out Boy.


	180. Chapter 180

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I love your stories, if you are still taking prompts, i have two 00Q ones for you please. One James is an alpha who wins a skittish (possibly abused) q in a fight. the second is that q unwillingly works for the bad guys cue bond rescue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went with the first one because Omegaverse is my guilt pleasure. I would have done the second one too but that would be quite complicated with the posting. My apologies.

"Let him go."

Q didn't lift his head because he wasn't suicidal enough to go against the Alpha's orders, not when he had told Q to not move or he'd claim him right here in the public, where everyone was watching but interfering.

It wasn't rare that unbonded Omegas were attacked when they were out of their houses.

In fact it was a common sight, even with the Beta policemen walking around and patrolling, because when it came to a fight with an Alpha having layn his eye on an Omega there wasn't much they could do but loose or retreat.

He only had hoped that he was the exception.

A stupid, naive thought but he had the right to be naive when he saved dozens of lives or even more with three clicks of his computer, and when he programmed weapons, bombs and had one of the highest securities in the whole country or maybe world.

He was Q. He happened to be an Omega, but he was unbonded and free and had no Alpha to tell him what to do.

Now that would change, however, because there was an Alpha and he had apparently decided that he wanted Q, and he had little choice if he didn't want to be hurt.

"Go away Bond", Q mumbled as he recognised the voice, part of him wondering how the agent found him or why he was here.

It was true that James had shown interest. More than that, Q thought with a sigh as he could feel footsteps approach him, and the hand on his shoulder grip more tightly, almost painfully.

He had more than once told Q that he wanted to have him. He had flirted, he had sniffed at Q's neck to inhale his scent, he had invited Q home, had given him presents, and yet Q had refused.

He wasn't stupid enough to fall for that.

James would get bored of him and he slept with women on missions, Alphas Betas and Omegas alike, and he wouldn't stop only because he had an Omega waiting at home. 

He would want Q to stop working for the MI6 and would want him to be a broodmare, and nothing more. If he wanted children, which Q doubted. He'd only be a sexual toy, and he knew that it was common knowledge that sex with one's own Omega was the best.

James just wanted his body. Nothing more.

And Q didn't want that. He didn't want any of that, actually, but he had known that sooner or later he would end up being mated and impregnated. He had only hoped that it wouldn't be so soon.

Goodbye MI6 and goodbye promising career in espionage.

"Fuck off, he's mine", the Alpha holding onto Q growled, his breath hot and disgusting against Q's neck, so close Q feared he would try to mark him right here by biting into his skin.

He tried to move away, but couldn't. It only ended in nails digging into his skin, probably leaving a bruise.

"Don't you fucking move", was hissed into Q's ear, "Or I'll have to punish you."

From the corner of his eyes Q could see James, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, something dark shining in his eyes, spreading out to his whole features until his expression resembled fury and anger Q had never seen in him before.

_Oh my god I'm in the middle of a fight between two Alphas, and I'm the prize._

"I'm only going to ask you one time, and if you don't let go of him I have to make you", James said with a dangerously calm voice, and Q wondered if he would shoot the bastard in the head or in the groin.

Both wouldn't be funny for Q who would rather not get the blood of this bastard on his jacket nor his cardigan, but apparently he couldn't do anything but stand there helplessly and trust Bond's aim.

"He's mine, blondie, get away. I'm going to claim him."

"Let go off me!", Q protested a bit weakly, trying to turn and ram his knee in the Alpha's groin, but a hand collided with his cheek and he was thrown down.

Q yelped and held his cheek, feeling his blood boil and his head explode as it hit the ground, the taste of blood in his mouth and tears shooting into his eyes.

He could only hear the sound of bones breaking and a scream, growling and shouting, and as he opened his eyes again he saw Bond stand over him, offering his hand.

"If I take it I'm yours, aren't I?", Q asked quietly as he sat up slowly, the world spinning, his head throbbing.

"You already are mine, Q", James replied, raising an eyebrow, "I won you in a fight."

Q tried to roll his eyes, but he didn't manage to and only groaned out, praying for this bastard's life that he only had a headache and nothing worse. He reached out and took James' hand, letting himself be helped up.

Bond didn't let go of Q's hand, and wrapped an arm around his waist, other hand resting on the small of Q's back.

It was the universal sign for _'Get away, he's mine.'_


	181. Chapter 181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> literarylimelight asked: "Hello, I'm a big fan of your work (although a quiet one) and I share your guilty pleasure when it comes reading and writing omeaverses. I was wondering if you'd consider extending the one just finished where James seemed about to claim Q. I'm wondering how MI6 would feel about losing their quartermaster..."
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> “OMG you are awesome! Please continue the Omegaverse 00Q prompt, maybe Bond aka ‘I won you, but not gonna do anything against your will, but still protect you from other Alphas’? And Q finally falling for Bond because he feels kinda safe and loved with James? Fluffy and lovely! Pretty please! I love Omegaverse!”
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> “Hey there! I loved the Omegaverse oneshot you posted! It is totally my guilty pleasure too! But, I was wondering, could you do a continuation where Bond doesn’t y’know ban Q from working, and just treat him like a glorified sex toy, like Q was afraid of? Because that really broke my heart! Can we have Bond being protective over his Omega but not stifling and just showing Q how wondrous he finds him? Thanks in advance!”

"Sit down."

Q did as he was told, if only because he was confused about what Bond was doing.

He had walked him home, his hand on the small of Q's back all the time, glaring at everyone who dared to even step close as if he was afraid someone would dare to touch Q, or try to take him away.

He had taken Q home, had locked the door, checked the windows and now told Q to sit down. Yes, the Omega was very confused and yes, he was afraid and tense.

It was natural. He was about to get claimed, and about to loose all he had fought for.

He had expected Bond to make him go into the bedroom, lay on the bed or kneel on his fours, and he had expected to be taken without even the simple question if he wanted it. Because Q wasn't sure about if he wanted it, nor about the reason behind Bond's actions.

His eyebrows narrowed as Bond offered him a cup of tea, which Q took with a mumbled thanks, wrapping his bony and thin fingers around the handle.

It was Earl Grey, he realised as he inhaled the tea's scent, letting out a sigh. At least something he wouldn't miss. If he had to loose his job at least he got some Earl Grey, which was good.

"Before I am going to claim you, Q, there are things I think you should be aware of first."

Q looked up with a frown, awaiting the words _'I don't want you to work anymore'_ , or something along those lines he had heard so often in movies and had read so often in novels. It had also been given to him as a reason for a minion stopping to work for them because his Alpha had forbidden him to work, and he hadn't been able to say no to her.

The Omega wet his lips and nodded, leaning a bit back in the armchair. It was comfortable, probably big enough for two.

"I take it you have never been claimed or wooed before."

"Please, Bond, we both know that Alphas don't woo. They take. They claim."

James raised an eyebrow. "James, call me James."

Q had the feeling Bond would order him around more often from now on, and he felt a sting of worry in his chest, creeping through his veins and up his mind to make him imagine the worst scenarios in existance.

He would loose his job, he would be kept tied on the bed 24/7 and used for James' pleasure only or he would be pregnant after his next heat.

He would loose his job, for certain. Bond was a tradionalist, believing that Omegas should stay at home, take care of the children and be pregnant, cook, clean and pleasure, not work. Work was the Alpha's job.

"What is your real name, Q?"

Q lifted a hand to push his glasses up his nose again, and he sighed. "Benjamin."

Bond nodded, folding his hands in his lap and studying Q with an intense glare, probably deciding whether he had won a good price or not. It made Q feel sick and want to scream, but he had gone through years of being told how to behave, and he had to accept his fate.

"I want you to know, Benjamin, that I won't make you give up your work." Q looked up at that, eyes widening. "Your work is important for you, and you are the Quartermaster. M wouldn't even let me, despise the law."

"But-"

"I do believe that the Alpha should take the most important decisions, and that the Omega should follow them, but I won't do anything you don't want to. If our bond will work the way every does, what you want will soon be what I want, with a few exceptions of course." James gave a light smile and Q let out some air, sighing in relief. "I'm a traditionalist. I won't want you to be alone with another Alpha, and I won't want you to take the tube. You are mine and I want everyone to know that."

"So you'll scent-mark me?", Q asked, sipping at his tea.

James nodded. "You are mine, Q. Mine only. I'll be with you all the time when I'm not away, and if I am I want everyone who dares to even look at you in an inappropriate way to go through pain. I want their balls to be cut off."

Q blinked, stopping in his motion. James was serious, and not joking. Oh god. He was one of those overly possessive Alphas, wasn't he?

James leant forward a bit, and the smile made Q's heart flutter, because it was one of the first genuine ones he had ever seen from James. It made him want to smile too, and he did.

"I want you to be yourself, and not some beautiful arm-candy. You are my Omega, and while I want everyone to see how beautiful and wonderful you are, I want them to realise that they can never have you."

He stood up, offering Q his hand. Q wet his lips but took it and let himself be pulled to his feet, and towards James. His hand came to rest on James' chest, and he lowered his glance nervously.

James gave a low and deep chuckle, lifted Q's head softly and kissed him.

xx  
xx

James was one of those possessive Alphas, and he was a man of his words, Q realised.

He also was quite serious about wanting the same Q wanted. Something triggered by their bonding, Q had been told after James had growled at an Alpha from medical who had dared to try and touch Q in order to bandage a wound on his shoulder.

It would get better, apparently, only that Q had the feeling it wouldn't.

At the beginning of this all, after being fucked - cherished, James would correct, _I cherished you, and your body, your beautiful body which is mine and mine only_ \- by James and after being bitten in the neck, Q had been nervous.

He hadn't known if he really would be able to accept Bond as his Alpha, but soon enough, he felt himself fall for the agent and his ridiculous blue eyes.

The way he didn't want to let Q out of his sight for even the bit of time it took the younger to get into the bathroom, relieve himself and return, or the way he always took him to work by car, walked him down to Q-branch and sat down on the desk to watch and protect him.

James was sweet, in his own way, and Q was weak against this.

He fell in love with his Alpha a few weeks after they had bonded, and apparently James felt it because he wore the most ridiculous, wide and proud grin on his face all the day, and the next.

People were afraid. A minion yelped, most hid in the kitchen when the Alpha came into Q-branch.

Q thought it was amusing, and James didn't notice it.


	182. Chapter 182

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> elegantcertainties asked: "Will you write Vampire!Q, pretty please? There is a serious lack of such fanfic in this fandom."
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> "Hey there! Would you be willing to write something with Vampire!Q, Werewolf!Bond? (And bonus for Succubus!Moneypenny) Thanks in advance!”

"They didn't tell me that my new Quartermaster is one of those bloodsuckers."

Q didn't seem to notice him at first, hunched over something which James vaguely recognised as a woman, with her legs twitching and her mouth hanging open in a silent scream, her struggles growing weaker and weaker within seconds.

James didn't know what had made him follow the faint scent of Q and blood, if it had been the worry that the Quartermaster was hurt or the curiosity Eve had awoken in him.

This bloody Succubus and her smiles, her touches which made his blood boil and the wolf inside him howl, but he wasn't stupid enough to fall for that. His blood sang of age, and hers of death, and Q's sang a melody James had never heard before but found himself weak against.

Finally Q looked up from where he had his head burried in the woman's neck, and James frowned as he saw his eyes.

Q's eyes usually were green. Now they were red, like the blood running down his chin and dropping down his teeth, smeared across his lips.

How did a being manage to look innocent and vulnerable with blood across its face? How did Q manage to make James' heart flutter and his stomach cramp in the urge to protect and secure, even when he usually should want to tear him apart and growl at him.

All of James' being pulled him towards Q, and his inner wolf wanted to snarl at those daring to hurt him.

Q looked at James for a moment, then at the woman again, licking his lips.

"What a surprise, I thought I gave them the order to pass around the memo", Q mumbled and let the woman fall down, both watching her struggle for a last few times before she lay still.

James couldn't hear her heartbeat anymore.

"Do you always go and kill civilians on the street?", James asked, offering Q his hand to help him up.

Q took it after licking the blood off his own, getting on his feet and raising an eyebrow as James didn't let go of him.

James sniffed the air. Q smelled of blood, and tea, and deep underneath was a scent which made James want to burry his face in the crook of his neck and inhale, inhale until he would breathe in Q and not air anymore.

"It is easier than killing some of my minions, or agents." Q waggled his eyebrows, smirking. He licked his lips, some of the blood disappearing, his eyes suddenly less red, more black. "Did you follow me?"

James nodded. "I did."

"Why?"

As James said nothing Q took a step forward, their chests nearly pressed together and Q's feet between James', his breath brushing James' neck as he leant over.

"I am waiting."

"Because I was confused. And worried."

"Worried?", Q repeated, leaning back again.

"Yes."

"About?"

"You." Now it was James' turn to step closer, and he pressed Q against the wall with the back of his head hitting the stones, a gasp leaving Q's mouth and giving James the chance to claim his lips in a kiss.

He growled, licking his way into Q's mouth and burying his fingers in Q's curls, tucking anything but gently on them.

Q arched into it, fisting James' jacket.

"Don't tell me you imprinted on me", Q said, not breathless.

Vampires didn't breathe, James thought as he lowered his head, trailing kisses along Q's jawline, over his throat to his neck where he inhaled deeply, taking in Q.

He had imprinted on him, and James would do anything to keep Q safe. It was his task and quest, and he'd be damned if he would fail.

"It seems like I did...", James mumbled against Q's skin, his eyes turning yellow and fangs breaking through his teeth, "You're mine, Q."

He bit into Q's neck, knowing that the mark he was about to leave wouldn't fade, wouldn't heal like any other. The blood of a werewolf stopped the vampire from healing, a werewolf's salvia leaving marks.

Q groaned, nails digging in James' shoulders.

"Animal", he breathed out.

James growled, looking up. He tasted blood which wasn't Q's, but he tasted his skin and he licked away the blood which was spilling out of his wound.

"Zombie."

Q glared. "Vampire. No need to get insulting."

He lifted James' head up again, crushing his lips on the agent's.

It tasted of blood. It was ugly and with teeth and tongue, and it was the best James had ever have.


	183. Chapter 183

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Vampire AUs are sadly lacking in this fandom, but that was fantastic! (Also thank you for getting that mention of Moneypenny in there, I wasn't sure if it'd work, but thank you for making it!) Would you be able to do a follow up at some point in the future, maybe Bond and Q hunting for prey together at night? Thank you again! I adore all your writing, it always hits the mark just right!"
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> “That was a great 00Q Vampire AU! Would you mind writing a follow up, maybe Q and Bond going out on a full moon night together?"
> 
> **_and_ **
> 
> “Loving Vampire!Q, would you write anything more in that ‘verse?”
> 
> **_and_ **
> 
> "pleaaaase I nees more vampire!Q werewolf!Bond"

“Are you sure that will end well?”, Q asked as he leant against the doorframe, watching James strip.

It was a sight he was used to by now, because typically for a werewolf they liked to walk around naked much to anyone’s horror, because how was Q supposed to work from home when he had a naked James sprawled out over him possessively?

Ah, the possessiveness of a werewolf over his mate. It didn’t matter if the mate was older and in certain aspects stronger than the werewolf, in James’ eyes he was a damsel in distress which needed to be saved and protected from any kind of threat.

A bird for example, Q would never let that one down.

“Why shouldn’t it?”

Q rolled his eyes, feeling the urge to shake James and make him realise that they were enemies despise their bond and that James’ instinct would be to tear Q apart and feast on his flesh. But he didn’t, because it would be full moon in approximately ten minutes, and he didn’t want their flat to be destroyed by a handful of monstrous and furry wolf.

“Let me think about it James…”, Q made a mocking pause, titling his head as if he had to think about it, “You’re a werewolf, I’m a vampire.”

“And Moneypenny is a Succubus”, James added with a smirk, and Q groaned in annoyance.

He rubbed his eyes, glasses laying somewhere on their bedside-table. Q didn’t need to sleep but James did, and he liked to ponder for a few hours in silence with the werewolf’s breath brushing his neck, and his arms tightly around him.

“Look, I trust you. I wouldn’t have allowed you to scent-mark me every evening otherwise. But I’d rather not be torn into pieces”, Q sighed, “I’d survive it, sure, but you have no idea how tedious and painful it is to put yourself together again.”

James looked up, fingers unbuttoning his shirt and with one movement of his shoulders it fell down onto the pile of clothes, a jacket, trousers, shoes, a tie. The werewolf only wore his pants, and they’d come off soon enough.

“I could stich you back together.”

“Oh god no. You can’t even stich your own wounds and _they heal faster than a human’s_.”

Pressing a hand to his chest, James made a face as if he had been hit by someone. “Ow, that hurts.”

Q rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the doorframe, making his way to the entrance door. Seven minutes left, five until James would start turning. Meaning that he soon would get some blood, he felt like he was starving.

He was sure his eyes were red, and as he licked his lips he could feel his fang-like teeth slowly break through the normal.

James threw him a concerned glance, but Q just shrugged. Tonight they’d go hunting together for the first time, and as exited Q was he was also nervous, an understandable feeling. He would be together with a bloodthirsty werewolf who might or might not attack Q in the hours ahead of them.

Adrenaline was one of the many body fluids Q couldn’t produce, but would he be human his heart would be beating rapidly in his chest, trying to break through his ribs into freedom and away from the fear settling in his brain. 

The werewolf reached out to him, pressed a soft kiss on Q’s lips and then reached out to get a coat, not wanting to walk around naked for the time it would take them to get into the city.

“We should go”, he said and Q nodded, opening the door and stepping out into the coldness of the night.

They reached the street they had carefully chosen earlier this day within four minutes, only because they had walked past a few humans and James couldn’t run as fast as Q, not when he was about to shift.

James’ eyes were shining in the darkness, a bright yellow light which later would turn back to the blue but in an inhuman shade and brightness, as bright as Q’s red eyes which fell on him, walking into an alley where no one would be able to see them.

No one would miss one or two humans here, and no one would suspect a vampire and a werewolf to be responsible for it. They would blame a dog and would kill one, as brutal as it sounded it was something Q used to his favour.

“You should better take a step backwards”, James mumbled, and Q could see fangs break through his normal teeth, fingers twitching and claws growing.

The vampire did as he had been told, and watched in fascination as James fell on his fours, letting out a shuddering howl breaking the silence of the night. The sound of bones breaking, and muscles shifting, of fur breaking through skin and of organs growing or shrinking made Q wet his lips and consider to turn his head away, but he had seen this before and knew James wasn’t in pain.

As long as he didn’t try to suppress it, he was fine.

James howled again, and within one fluid motion the human was gone and on his spot a wolf stood up, shaking himself.

James’ fur was blonde but greying, and his eyes were sharp and still human. He took a step towards Q and the vampire offered his hand to let James sniff on it, a wet tongue wetting the skin between his fingers, sharp teeth nibbling at his fingertips.

Q smiled, reached down and scratched behind James’ ears, before he turned around and scanned the area.

Pushing his head against Q’s legs James passed him, patting out onto the empty street, eyes roaming over the homeless people sleeping, trying to find one whose flesh didn’t stink like they hadn’t washed themselves in ages.

Q lead the way and James followed, being able to keep up with Q’s speed as they ran, James’ tongue hanging out of his mouth and muscles working underneath his thick fur, visible to Q’s eyes. He jumped over a box laying in the way, landing on his fours and closed the distance between the two of them again, only stopping as Q gestured him to.

The fascinating thing about imprinting was that it felt as if Q could read James’ mind and the other way around, even though they couldn’t.

They didn’t need to look at each other to know that they found their victims, two men sitting next to each other on a bench, talking loudly, the scent of alcohol rising into Q’s nostrils.

It would do.

He moved forward, smiling and approaching the men who looked up to him, suddenly forgetting their conversation as they stared into Q’s eyes, hypnotised and mesmerised enough to not notice the wolf suddenly leaping at them, breaking their necks.

Q smelled blood and forgot himself, jumping forward to burry his fangs in the throat of one of them, lapping at the neverending stream of hot, sticky blood filling his mouth and dropping down his chin.

He heard the other one scream, the sound of flesh being ripped off bones making Q grimace.

James’ fur was soaked in blood, especially around his muzzle, but Q’s hands and mouth weren’t any better.

The wolf sat down on his hind legs, lifted his head and howled into the night, and Q smiled at him before he searched for their next victims.


	184. Chapter 184

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tracionn asked: "Hi dear! I loved the pocket!Q ones so much too and I wouldn't have thought it possible to find it so adorable. I know you still have way too many prompts but if you ever feel like a sequel to the one we have a prequel to, maybe with much protectiveness and many tiny kisses, I'd explode with gratitude :)"
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> “Never knew I would really enjoy 007-pocket!Q story xD can we have continuation where other Pocket thingy in MI6 heard about the pajama and ask Q to ask Bond to make some for them xD. Since Q is shy/unsure, doesn’t wanna say that Bond did it coz he’s interested in Q, he said he will ask him for them~”

"Q?"

The Quartermaster looked up from his tablet, blinking in confusion at the other three pocket-humans climbing up the table, one nearly slipping and falling down but he managed to get hold of the rope again.

"Yes?"

The only female amongst them cleared her throat and elbowed the man to her right, who chewed on his lower lip. "We heard about what Bond did..."

Q tensed. Did they hear about how Q and he had started some sick and weird relationship, with kisses and touches and James coming with tiny hands rubbing on his cock? Had they heard about how Q had fallen for the human despise everything?

"What did he do?", he asked innocently, trying to hide his nervousness as he pushed his glasses up again, slowly lowering the tablet onto his mini-desk on top of the table.

There were a few files next to him, each bigger than Q was, and he considered hiding in them just in case. He had no idea how any of this had leaked out, but he was faintly sure that this was it. They'd assign him to another double-oh and he'd never see James again.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Well... rumours say he made you...", the man cleared his throat and the woman took over.

"He made you pyjamas, we heard."

Q blinked. Turned his head and looked at his tablet as if it could tell him what the fuck was going on, only to turn his head to the other three again.

Where did they have this from?

"How...?"

"An agent asked Bond. He saw you in your pyjamas after double-oh seven ended up in medical and you were brought to him."

Ah. Q blinked again, wondering what they wanted from him. "Yes he did. Why?"

Now the man was blushing, while the other two were looking anywhere but at Q. It took her several moments until she spoke, and it wasn't more than a whisper as she did.

"Could you... you know... ask him if he could make some for us too?"

He felt himself blush, and lowered his glance, because how was he supposed to tell them that Bond had only made them for Q because he was interested in him without revealing what kind of relationship they were in? He loved the pyjamas, they were fluffy and warm and Bond had got better since the first one and they now were as good as those made by professionals, but they were his.

It was egoism surely, but they were his.

"I... I'll ask him."

They thanked him and climbed down again, a silent thump audible as one of the men fell down from the end of the rope onto the ground, his groan making Q sigh.

Q turned to his tablet again and wet his lips, wondering about whether he really should ask James or not. He was curious about his reaction, but kind of terrified about it on the other hand.

Q sighed, rubbing his eyes after taking his glasses off.

xx  
xx

"What do you mean they asked if I can make them pyjamas?", Bond repeated a bit confused, looking up to Q who was laying on his chest, sprawled out like a tiny cat.

The pocket-human only hummed and turned, wrapping his arms around James' finger in a tiny hug.

"They just asked me this morning", he mumbled, kissing the tip of James' finger softly, "I couldn't tell them that you made them for me because you love me, so I said I'd ask you."

Bond made some kind of noise, and squirmed a bit, making sure Q held onto his shirt to not accidentally slip down. "Well you'll have to tell them that I only make them for you, can't have my Quartermaster sleep in something uncomfortable can I?"

Q huffed. "I sleep naked lately."

"I know that."

"But they don't have to, right? It's our secret."

Bond lifted Q and pressed a kiss to his hair, inhaling the scent of his tiny lover, having to smile as Q wrapped his arms around his finger again. 

"I'd like everyone to know that you are mine, Q, you are mine. They can know."

"But-"

James silenced him by kissing Q's hair again, only to carefully put him down on his shoulder as the agent stood up, walking towards his bedroom. Q held onto his collar, leaning against his neck and pressing tiny kisses on the skin there.

"Nothing but. I don't care about what they would think."

"You might not but I do. I'd rather not be looked at strangely."

"Why would they?"

Q looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. James gave a low chuckle, putting Q down on his pillow as he stripped, laying down next to him.

"Because, James, not everyone thinks that a pocket-human should have sex with a normal-sized one."

"We don't have sex, Q. You help me jerk off and I whisper into your ear when you wank."

Q blushed, moving off the pillow to make his way further down, nearly stumbling over the duvet which was a bit chaotic.

"So what shall I tell them at work?", he asked, looking up to James who was watching him.

"That the pyjamas are something only you get."

Q nodded, and settled down as he was in front of James' hips.

"People might talk."

James chuckled. "They always do."


	185. Chapter 185

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hello! If you're not too busy, I have another vampire!Q werewolf!Bond prompt in mind. Q has been attacked and kidnapped by vampire hunters and Bond come to rescue him. Hurt/Comfort and caring!Bond please ;)"

"Oh do we feel creative today?"

They pressed the heated metal on his chest again, making him hiss and bare his teeth as his eyes flashed red. It was silver, probably blessed and all that kind of stuff hunters considered as useful, and it burnt like hell.

A very interesting choice of words he had taken, given that in their eyes he was a creature of the fiery pit of doom.

The vampire pursed his lips, snarling.

The events around his capture were a bit blurry, all a big chaos inside his head. He could remember the argument he had have with Bond, and how he had left that evening to let his anger out on some poor miserable soul in a side-alley, and he could remember something going through his shoulder down to his chest.

Stakes weren't deadly for a vampire, but they were paralysing. He had been trapped inside his own body, a silent observer as they had carried him away and into a car. Twenty-two minutes of drive, with enough bumps in the streets to drive the stake deeper into Q's heart.

He would have their heads for that. Not their blood because there were many things Q would never do, and drinking the blood of such bastards was one of the ones on top.

Ripping their arms off one by one, then ripping their stomachs open to put a knot on their bowels and play rope-skipping with them however would be satisfying enough to calm down the bloodthirsty beast inside him, and the last time he had played rope-skipping had been a hundred-and-something years ago.

Ah, good old times. Plague, murder, diseases, discrimination and war.

"Exorcizo te, immundissime spiritus, omnis incursio adversarii, omne phantasma, omnis legio, in nomine Domini nostri Jesu Christi eradicare, et effugare ab hoc plasmate Dei..."

Q let out a groan of annoyance. "For fuck's sake, I'm not a bloody demon. You can't just expect me to vanish and disappear in black smoke."

They slapped him, and with mild satisfaction he heard the crack of the man's bones breaking. Said winced and took a step backwards, shaking his hand.

Q figured that he deserved the following push of the metal to his cheek, in some strange and weird kind of sense. He wondered if there was any part of his body not covered in bruises, just as much as he wondered why it took James this long to find him. Normally he was able to track Q down in a matter of seconds or minutes but Q had been here the whole night and no sign of him so far.

A bit disappointing, perhaps. And worrying, since the sun was rising.

The hunters took a few steps backwards to look at him, smirking and grinning and whispering though Q could understand every word and he heard how they wanted to leave him here to burn.

It wasn't as if he'd burn the moment the sunlight would fall on his skin, but it was a close call.

His skin would slowly turn black and then he'd be on fire, and if Bond should ever come to rescue him he would only find ashes and maybe a few bones in front of a wooden cross they had nailed him against.

Q tried to clutch his hand into a fist, but the nail having been pushed through his palm made it impossible to and made him hiss.

As they turned around to leave, he could hear their laugher until they were out of his hearing range. Q sighed and closed his eyes.

Maybe his life would pass in front of his inner eye now, and he could look on more than one hundred years. A lot more than hundred, more than two or three, but that was another story.

Q wet his lips, titled his head and looked at the sky above him. It was a nice view, shining stars sparkling like diamonds - and that reminded him of this horrible song of this modern artist, about diamons in the sky or whatever, _how much he missed the music from the time of his human life, the beautiful artists with their rich voices echoing through the hall, a time of dresses and suits and beauty and scandals_ \- and with the sky as dark as a raven's feathering.

How long until the sun would rise?

xx

Just as the first few sparks of sun hit Q's skin and made him hiss in pain, there were warm hands on his chest ripping the stake out in one fluid movement.

Q **screamed** and his eyes snapped open, staring into Bond's in disbelief.

"You-!"

James shook his head, pulled the nails out of Q's hands and feet, then put him down on the ground. "Ssh."

The vampire lay his head into the grass and groaned, somehow managing to lift his arm to cover his eyes with it. "Don't you ssh me."

"I just did", James said with a sigh, and as Q sniffed the air he could smell blood on him.

"You killed them?"

"Of course." James growled. He took his jacket and put it over Q to shield his body from the sun, then sat down next to him and rolled his sleeves up. "They hurt what is mine. I can't let them get through with that."

James held his wrist over Q's mouth and lifted the jacket a bit, only putting it over him again as Q's fangs sank into his skin. The werewolf bared his teeth, grimacing for a moment.

"Still convinced that you don't need me to save your arse?"

Q hummed, lifting a hand to wrap his fingers around James' arm, trying to keep him still.

He only stopped as he felt James' pulse getting weak, and licking his lips Q sat up with a yawn, stretching and watching his wounds heal.

"Yes. You have your bright and useful moments but I am more than capable of saving myself."

James growled, pushed Q down and pinned him down, licking over his neck.

"Keep telling yourself that. Let's get you out of the sun, shall we?"


	186. Chapter 186

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I love Cat!Q. Can I have that Q's a shapeshifter (into a cat) and Bond only finds out when a sleek black cat turns up on his doorstep, seeming to already know his appartment?"

There were several methods of letting your boyfriend know that you were a shapeshifter, but Q liked neither of them. Because they were ordinary and neither James nor Q was that.

Their relationship was weird, dysfunctional and chaotic.

Sometimes they didn't see each other for weeks, but they made up for it with the time they did see each other. And whenever James could they talked over phone or earphiece, even when the bullets were flying past James' ears and through his skin.

He fought terrorists every day, but the thought of telling James that he sometimes turned into a black, slender cat and chased the mice in his cellar made Q curl up under his pillow in fear.

He didn't eat them of course, because that would be disgusting, but he was proud to say that he had a collection of white, brown and grey mice sorted from the fatest to the thinnest. They were useful for experiments with acid and drugs for agents, and when things were supposed to go 'Boom'.

Could he just go and tell him?

They had never talked about shapeshifters, not more than the occasional conversation about how James had wrestled with a lion after the woman just had turned into one.

James never seemed to be the type to discriminate anyone and he had never shown any hatred against shapeshifters when they hadn't tried to kill him - which hardly happened since most acquaintances James made were quickly ended by a bullet or knife, but it had happened and the lovely rabbit-shifter still gave Q cupcakes when they were in his coffee-shop.

How he would react to the news of his lover turning into a cat however was something Q couldn't predict.

So instead of choosing words Q chose the art behind simplicity. James wasn't a man of words but of actions, and a man who shot and then asked questions, blunt, a destructible force.

Instead of saying what he was, Q would just show him.

Which was why, as James returned from a long mission in India, he found a sleek cat sitting in front of his door on its hind legs, licking his paw softly. With a beautiful tail waggling as the cat's eyes fell on James, far too intelligent for an animal.

James stopped, looked down and frowned.

There was a cat on his doorstep.

A flat which was located at top of a building with 23 storeys, and more security than the whole Q-branch united, and yet he found a cat sitting on his doorstep looking smug.

James blinked and looked around, wondering if one of his neighbors had a cat. Though he knew little about them, it could even be possible that they smuggled humans. He held little interest in them, and he hardly was home anyway.

"Sush."

The cat looked up at him and waggled with its tail, something in its eyes sparkling in amusement. James sighed.

There was a smug cat on his doorstep, and it didn't seem to go away. He poked it with the tip of his shoe and the cat hissed, and as he carefully bent down to poke it with his fingers it nosed his palm with its snout.

Despise himself he had to smile for a moment, because it almost was cute.

Then he shook his head and stood up, about to walk into his flat and let the cat stay outside, but he turned his head as it suddenly meowed.

There was something about the meow which caught James' attention, and which made him turn around on the spot and bend down to look the cat in the eye. Green, with a tiny bit of brown, and there was intelligence in it.

Intelligence of a genius, and the intelligence he had grown familiar to in weeks.

James sat down on the ground, eyes widening.

The cat stood up, rubbed its side against James' leg and then walked inside as if it owned the flat, jumping into James' **white** couch to curl up there. James could just stare.

Q was a shifter. A cat. And he was on James' couch.

He needed a drink.

Q pushed his head against James' leg as the elder sat down next to him, a bit awkward since he didn't know what he was supposed to do with Q. He lifted his hands and allowed him to get into his lap, a heavy, yet warm weight which made James smile.

James ran a hand through Q's fur and watched him purr, turn around to offer his belly and try to hold onto James' fingers with his paws as he scratched softly.

"You chould have told me", he mumbled, and Q whined. "No talking, alright. I'll pet you and later I'll bed you."

Would it be possible Q would be rolling his eyes, but it was not, and James was just imagining this glance of pure annoyance. 

Coinsidence.

James scratched a bit harder and heard and felt the cat purr, tail curling around James' wrist and tiny teeth nibbling at his fingertip once he had it between his paws.

It was very hard not to think that this was cute.


	187. Chapter 187

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sidekickcomedy asked: "Your fics are just the greatest! If you're still taking prompts I would absolutely love a story where Q was in the building when the original MI6 exploded and Bond only finds out because Q has nightmares about watching his co-workers die that day."

As Q next to him began to cry in his sleep, turning and tossing and throwing his arms around until he nearly hit James, the elder knew something was wrong.

Q always had nightmares. He always woke up in the middle of the night and thought James didn't notice it, but he did and he felt worry. It was an emotion he was not yet used to, worrying about a human being over a time span as long as this.

They usually always died after a night, if not after a short time.

He had been with Q for seven months, the longest he had ever been in a relationship, and the first which did not end in death and trauma. Would it ever end, then because James died or Q grew tired of an old man like James.

Or because he couldn't sleep with a screaming partner curled in his arms. James was sure you could die from lack of sleep, Q always was on the edge of death.

Sitting up slowly James sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Should he wake him up? He had read something about that it wasn't good to wake a person when he or she had a nightmare, and from personal experience he knew that it mostly ended in pain and shouting.

Q wasn't him, and should Q try to attack him due to a dream triggering panic James could just hold him and wait until it was over, but he figured it wouldn't be the best to do now.

He carefully reached out and ran a hand through Q's messy hair, feeling sweat on his forehead and tears run over his cheeks. Carefully shaking Q's shoulder he tried to make him wake up, but Q only whimpered and James found himself at loss of ideas.

He shook Q again and leant down, nosing along his jawline and up to his lips. James pressed a soft kiss on them, then shook Q again.

"Q, wake up", he mumbled quietly, trying again but Q kept on shouting, some instructions which made him wonder what he was dreaming about, "Q, wake up."

He tried again and again, just shaking Q until he woke up with a startled cry. His wide, green eyes found James', their glances meeting and Q's fearful expression softening a bit.

"Q?", James asked carefully, reaching out to stroke the younger's curly hair, massaging along his scalp, "Are you alright?"

Q nodded, wiping his tears away as he reached out to his glasses, eyes almost comically wide underneath the glasses. James felt his heart clutch, worry creeping through his veins and making him want to take Q into his arms until he would get over whatever dream he had.

Tucking Q closer, James wrapped an arm around his waist, heavy weight of his hand on the small of his back, caressing softly on his smooth soft skin. The smaller man sighed and dropped his head on James' shoulder, curling into him.

"Do you want to talk about it?", he asked quietly, and Q shook his head. "Q, you have those nightmares every night, don't you?"

Q nodded, sniffing softly. "It's nothing, James, go back to sleep."

"I would but there is someone next to me who doesn't seem to grasp the concept of a quiet night", James smirked, pressing a kiss to Q's neck, "What's wrong?"

He could hear the inner turmoil, the conflict which made Q draw away a bit. James reached out and pushed his glasses up for him, smiling encouraging - a smile of which he hadn't even known that he had been capable of.

"You were dead at that time, but did you hear about the explosion at the HQ?"

James nodded. "That was the reason I came back."

Q raised an eyebrow, for a moment not saying anything, but he sighed eventually. "I was in the building. It wasn't Q-branch which blew up but we were one of the closest, and we got caught in the flames. Some of my colleagues and co-workers died, I watched them."

The agent frowned. "You don't have any scars from burns."

"No, they healed already. Nothing serious nor grave, not like the wounds some others suffered from", he whispered, "I saw them die. One was thrown against the wall and there was so much fire, because of the chemicals we had in there." 

Q gave a shudder and closed his eyes, body going tense under James' touch. He drew him close again, wrapping his arms around Q's frame and pressing a kiss to his head.

"I'm sorry."

Q shook his head. "It's alright."

This night Q didn't sleep again, and the next he didn't come home and instead worked all day and night, never stopping, always busy. James dragged him home the day after, and talked him through his nightmares.


	188. Chapter 188

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Are you going to continue or did you continue the one where James is at MI6 and Q has a gun and it ends with a shot? if you did great. but if not I hope you do"
> 
> **_and_ **
> 
> "Please continue that prompt with intruders in MI6!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one: http://archiveofourown.org/works/614175/chapters/1163620

Q flinched and gave a startled cry, drawing his hands up the moment he saw blood spill into his face.

He didn't know what had happened, but apparently he still was alive. And he doubted that the intruders shot at each other for fun, as entertaining as shooting at someone was. James could probably tell tales about the joy of watching brain splatter after a piece of metal went through the skull of a human being.

There was something wet and sticky on his arms, running down his skin and soaking his shirt. It was warm, and he didn't want to know what it was but his curiosity got the better of him and he risked a glance.

It was pink-ish, and deep red, something Q had seen before but only through screens.

Q tasted bile on his tongue and gagged, moving backwards against his desk with the back of his head hitting the wood and making him gasp in pain. He stared on the corpse of the man in front of him, with the hole straight through his head, between his eyes.

"Was that necessary?", he asked quietly and looked up, his green eyes meeting Bond's.

"I could have waited until he shot you", the agent grunted, offering his hand to Q.

He was full of wounds, his skin dirty and dark, a cut across his face and one over his right arm. His suit was torn, and underneath was blood, some still fluid and running down his chest.

How he was standing was a mystery, but James' pain tolerance was nothing alike the ordinary human being's. He would probably argue that it was nothing and that Q was just being over-dramatic.

"Oh but then you'd have to find somebody else who puts up with you at home", Q mumbled and let himself be pulled up, legs weak and wobbly because of the shock. He took a deep breath, kicking the corpse with the tip of his shoe just in case.

Bond raised an amused eyebrow. "He's dead, I'm pretty sure about that."

"That's what the people in The Walking Dead were thinking too, and look where it brought them." As James just looked down at him in blank confusion, Q shook his head and made a vague gesture. "Not important. How's the situation?"

James blinked at him and then took out a handkerchief, cleaning blood off Q's face, totally ingnoring his own wounds. "Most are dead."

"Most?", Q repeated, frowning.

"There might be some left, but we took care of them. We meaning double-oh-three and me."

"He was here?"

James nodded, ripping off a piece of his suit to wrap it around a cut on Q's shoulder, neither deep nor dangerous in any kind. It had hardly bled. Q patted his hand away, trying to figure out which blood was from James and which from the people he probably killed.

"He was here because he just finished his mission", James looked up at Q and reached out, caressing his cheek, "Are you okay?"

Q sighed and looked around, four corpses covering the ground, blood all over the floor and destroyed computers, gadgets and weapons everywhere. He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"How many were in here?"

"I lost count, but I'd say more than twenty." James bent down and took the gun which had been aimed at Q before, checking the ammo inside. "I'm going to get you up to 003, he'll bring you into safety."

"And you?", Q narrowed his eyebrows but followed James anyway, trying to ignore the bile he tasted as he wet his lips and gulped.

"I'm going to and see if anyone's left."

Q just sighed and followed up to the entrance hall, nodding at 003 as he aimed for them just in case. He left with double-oh-three, the worry about James clawing at his mind even hours later.

He was drinking tea and staring at the wall opposite to the couch as the door was opened and as James came inside, falling onto the couch next to Q, covered in blood.

"Done?"

"Positive."

Q sighed, and leant down to kiss the agent's head.


	189. Chapter 189

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "HIII YOUR PROMPTS ARE AMAZING! I'm still sorting through all of your other works (all that stays is madness) and I have a prompt for youu (i hope you're still taking them). I'm looking for a 00Q fic, where Q coughs up blood with a worried Bond. It can be either life threatening (wounded), TB, or not too life threatening. Your choice. Thanksss n.n"

Q had been fine.

Perfectly fine, as fine as a Quartermaster neglecting his bodily needs on a daily basis, forgetting to eat or sleep, could be. He had never shown any signs of being sick, James had seen him rant about the TV program, he _had to be_ fine.

Yet as he went home, he found Q coughing, insisting that it was nothing.

There had been an explotion at the MI6 earlier, a little miscalculation of chemicals combined with gunpowder, an experiment Q had told him after James had stared at him in confusion hidden behind a blank expression. Not a big one, but it had been enough to nearly drive M up the wall and some minions ended at medical-branch, and half of the shooting range was burnt, but Q said he was fine.

He hadn't been caught in the explosion, and had inhaled a bit of smoke, hence the coughing, but he wasn't wounded and James' worry was uncalled for.

That's what he was saying, and James didn't believe him but he did have little choice and chance of making Q go to medical. He didn't have any wounds, and there was nothing wrong, at least nothing obvious.

James felt that something was off, a feeling deep in his gut, cramping and twisting, making him watch Q closely.

The coughing started soon after the agent had returned from a mission in Brasil, right after the explotion. At the beginning it was nothing he paid attention to, a coughing here, a bit of breathlessness there, something normal for someone with asthma like Q.

It got worse after a day, and now even James was growing wary of the situation, worry creeping through his mind steadily.

He didn't have a mission that day, and wouldn't have one within the next few days or even weeks, he had only returned from one after all. There were only that many times he could risk his life in one year, and it meant he did get to spend time with Q - so why forcing himself to waste his time killing people?

He stayed down at Q-branch all day, watching Q, scaring minions, the usual business. Q glared at him, hiding a smile; the minions tried to avoid being too close to him, one having fainted.

James would be enjoying himself too much, but the fear of something being wrong with Q easily won over this childish amusement, especially as Q coughed more and more.

There hardly was a moment he didn't cough, a moment in which he wasn't holding up his hand to his mouth, voice hoarse and too deep whenever he talked. Whenever Q tried to announce something loudly, he cut himself off by coughing. Whenever a minion asked him something Q couldn't answer right away.

That all was no reason to fear for the worst, it could be a flu, pneumonia even, but it didn't necessarily mean that it was something James had to drag Q to medical for.

He tried to ignore it, but of course he failed. There was no way he could, not when the coughing sounded horrible.

Some minions noticed too.

They usually were the most oblivious people James had and would ever meet, so if they took notice of something - as subtle as it was supposed to be - it meant that it had to be serious. And they catching up with Q's coughing was bad.

Really, really bad.

James hadn't done anything until now, but he figured that he should have. There was guilt amongst his worry, and fear, something he couldn't quite place but he was new in all of this.

He was dragged out off his thoughts as Q coughed again, lifting his hand up to his mouth, trying to cover and mute the sound. James caught up on it anyway and took a step towards him as it didn't stop.

Q kept on coughing, bending down, curling into himself in a standing position.

Only as James stood on his side he realised that there was blood on his hand. There was blood going through his fingers, visible on his pale skin.

James' eyes widened and he pulled his hand down, watching red liquid come out of Q's mouth, running down his chin and dropping onto his cardigan, soaking the brown fabric dark red. There was more and more, until Q made noises like a man drowning, spilling out blood and something green-ish.

"Q?"

The Quartermaster did not react, tears rushing into his green eyes. He seemed to have problems breathing, struggling to even take in one single breath. Minions stared, asking in concerned voices about what was wrong, one running up to medical instead of just calling.

"C-can't b-brea-", Q rasped out, pressing a hand against his chest, more and more blood coming up, a tiny puddle in front of his feet and some blood on his desk, even on his keyboard. "Bre-a-breath-breathe..."

James pushed him down onto a chair, holding a handkerchief in front of Q's mouth to stop the blood from messying up all his clothes.

Soon enough a doctor was here, trying to make Q stop coughing but he didn't manage to. Someone fetched an inhalator, but it didn't work either - Q just kept on coughing, blood everywhere on his hands, the tissue soaked and in a deep red.

They brought him away, James watching helplessly as Q disappeared behind the corner, the noises he made echoing from the walls, haunting James even as Q returned, pale and weak, breathing air from a breathing mask.

"Your lungs contain numerous small, elastic air sacs called alveoli", the doctor explained to James as he asked, watching Q lay in the bed, breathing far too loud in the agent's ears, "With each breath these sacs take in oxygen and release carbon dioxide. The exchange normally takes place without problems, but in certain circumstances the alveoli fill with fluids like blood instead of air.

"And what caused it this time?", James asked, titling his head in concern, "Could it be from the explotion?"

The doctor pursed his lips, so James figured that he had been informed. "We assume it is from the smoke he inhaled. It contained chemicals which damage the membrane between the air sacs and the capillaries, which allowed the blood to enter his lungs."

Q opened his mouth to say something, but was silenced by a cough, barely audible due to the mask and the beeping of the machine. James squeezed his hand to make him shut up and Q pouted.

"He needs to rest. Breathe in clean air, and give his body some time to recover." As Q opened his mouth again, James squeezed his hand again, and he gave up again. "Make him stay in bed, double-oh-seven."

The doctor left the two of them alone, with Q closing his eyes, and James settling back into the cheap chair they have given him. He wouldn't leave Q's side, not now.

"Not a word." Q opened his mouth. "Sush."

The Quartermaster pouted again, turning his head away from James. The agent chuckled lowly, kissing his hand.


	190. Chapter 190

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "could you please write one where q works at medical and he's the only one who can get james to get checked after a dangerous mision?? (everyone in mi6 knows they're together) thaaaaaaaaanks"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _For the sake of logic, Q is called Ben in this story, which is my headcanon for his real name._
> 
> _In fact I’m just too lazy to think of something, so I went with the actor’s name. Ehem._

"Ben?"

The young man looked up from the book he was reading at the moment, laying in his lap. He didn't even bother to try and put on his white coat, by now Tanner had seen that he didn't have it on.

As if any of the agents would really care about the clothes he had on, as long as he didn't accidentally sew their arms on their chests, or their legs together. He vaguely recalled having been told the story of a former doctor who had sewed an arm to the agent's face.

There, unfortunately, were no pictures nor recordings, but one could imagine the chaos inside the walls of Her Majesty's Secret Service.

James didn't tell him anything, no matter how often Ben asked. He just smirked and said that he hadn't been there at that time, he had been away on a mission, and he had said that the agent had been gone by the time he returned.

Ben suspected he was lying.

Correction, he was more than certain that he was lying, but he could survive torture without revealing anything, so Ben had little chance of pressing it out of him. He had tried withholding sex, but that hadn't worked (and had ended in angry sex against the wall).

"How can I help you today?", Ben asked Tanner and put the book away, pushing the glasses up his nose, and the cigarette into the ashtray.

"Bond is back."

Ben immediately sat attention, eyes widening, body going from tense to relaxed back to tense as he realised what it meant. James was back, something positive, but the fact that Tanner was here meant they had to get through the same procedure again and again.

The same procedure as every year, he thought ironically, sighing to himself.

"Does he still have two arms, two legs, a cock and is his head still on his neck?", he asked while standing up, putting on his coat, even buttoning the first two buttons. He hadn't seen James in a month, he should better leave a good impression and put more layers on to annoy him later.

"I don't know about the third one", Tanner said, pulling a face, "But he has two serious stabbing wounds and he bleeds a lot. His side is green and blue and we think he might have a broken rib."

Ben knew he didn't have to ask, but he did regardless because though he knew where he would be, it always would be better to ask.

James had two places he always went to when he was wounded: The roof, or their flat.

Officially it was Ben's, but James had inofficially moved in about three weeks ago, and apparently everyone knew it. At least Ben got his letters, and whenever M called them in on a free day he said _'Bring Bond along'_.

Their not-so-secret secret, it seemed. He didn't mind it, James certainly didn't mind it and M tried not to pay too much attention to it.

"Where is he?"

Tanner made a gesture to the ceiling and Ben nodded, taking a few bandages along.

James was sitting at the edge of the roof, a trail of blood leading the way to him. Ben just approached him and sat down next to him, taking one of his cigarettes and then handing the bandages over.

Bond liked do put them on on his own. Ben had no idea why since he had been trained to take care of the most nasty wounds, but he was used to it by now. As long as he could do the stitches and the rest, James could have his bloody bandages.

"Shouldn't you be in M's office or in medical now?", he asked, offering a conversation-starter. He blew out smoke, watching it rise into the sky, disappearing in between the clouds.

"But why, my dear Ben, when you come to me and take care of me?", James grinned at Ben and ruffled his hair, wincing as it hurt his sie.

"Broken ribs I guess?"

"One or two, perhaps. They weren't as gentle as you are."

Ben huffed, rolling his eyes. "Two stabbing wounds, and you apparenly lost a lot of blood. If you don't want to sleep on the couch you get down to medical and let yourself be taken care of."

James raised an eyebrow at him, Ben returned the gesture, narrowing his eyes. For several moments both were silent but James stood up eventually, going towards the door.

He was limping, Ben noticed, making a mental note to that. No missions for him in a while, more stress for Ben.

"Are you coming doctor? I am in need of assistance."

He rolled his eyes once again and got on his feet, taking his cigarette and throwing it down onto the ground, grinding it under his shoes. "The couch is calling."

James only chuckled. "Let's go."

Q wrapped an arm around James' side to keep him steady, and also to make sure he wouldn't just disappear and go home.


	191. Chapter 191

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lisalokitude asked: "Hallöchen♥ I’m in desperate need of a prison!misson for Bond and Q. Both have to play prisoners. I think something like this will end up with a lot of angst and hurt… (no comfort. There is no time for comfort if you are a skinny, geeky boy). Let them suffer (mental and physical... I'm pretty sure Bond would suffer metally... I mean it's not nice to see how your precious get beaten up and you can't do much about it... ). Please?! ♥ *puppy eyes* ..god I have to much ideas for something like that.."

The cell was empty, except for two beds and a closet, of which James assumed that it would be controlled far too often for his taste. The bed on the right side of the wall was occupied - a man was sitting on it, cross-legged, reading a book.

James threw his bag onto the other bed and turned to the window, looking out of the cell into the inner courtyard. There were a few prisoners, some cleaning, others sitting on the benches, staring into the distance.

It was silent, almost. James heard laughing from the cell next to this, and could hear the sound of fists connecting with a stone wall from the other one.

The walls were thin enough, perfect for the mission should he be situated next to Q's cell. He hoped the Six had thought about arranging that, or else James wouldn't be able to spend a single night in peace, worrying, being afraid of what they might do to Q.

The prison was a general one, for murderers and rapists alike, some hackers, the general dirt on England's streets.

James was here for killing a guy after pushing his head against the wall, bloody and disgusting, the liquid inside the brain having spilled. He had memorised his backstory perfectly, knew his persona's age, family, his favourite food, and would be able to repeat all of that under torture.

Q was here too.

There were some things going on in here, apparently some prisoners sold information to Britain's enemies, and it was their mission to find the ones responsible, contact the MI6 and that would be it. Q was here to get into contact with them, and maybe even get into their circle of hackers.

James wasn't happy about it, Q wasn't happy about it, and M certainly wasn't happy about risking their Quartermaster's life, but they had little choice. Q fit into the cliché of the skinny, bony nerd, and officially he was here for hacking into systems, take information and sell them for money - the perfect backstory created for this mission, Q fit, that was it.

They couldn't talk to each other, not when people were watching.

It wasn't clear how long this would last, how long they'd have to play their roles, stay in the cell and building. He just hoped that neither of them would suffer more than necessary.

It had been a day so far, meaning that Q would get here tomorrow. He'd have to wait and see.

xx

The only glimpse of Q he got was in the cafeteria, the mop of black hair gone, the glasses on his face, eyes wide in fear and worry. He looked so out of place, the skinny Quartermaster amongst the criminals, the muscular men, the murderers, people staring, and it was painful for James to watch him but not be able to talk to him.

Q sat alone while eating, but a few guys shouted names at him, laughing. James' grip around the plate tightened, knuckles white, teeth gritted, and he had to force himself to walk out of the room and back to his cells instead of punching one of them in the face.

The cover was good. People were afraid of him and he barked at one or two, threatening to rip their heads off and they stayed away from him.

Q wasn't that lucky.

The second time James saw him was when there suddenly was shouting, audible through the corridors, loud and shrill. He heard laughing, and someone beg, the voice too familiar to just be a coinsidence.

He stood up from his bed, ignoring how his cell mate told him to "keep still, they're just messin' with a kiddo", trying to see anything. He saw a group of people, heard their voices, their shouts of "Pretty boy", and their laughing.

It took him control to not just break out and get there, make sure it wasn't Q who was being punched, but he was drawing attention to him and he was sure his cell mate was getting suspicious already.

Just as he turned around the group disappeared and he could see someone curl up on the ground, laying in a puddle of blood.

James could only see black hair, and green wide eyes, but he didn't need more, and he couldn't sleep that night because the worry was eating at his mind.

The third time he saw Q was in the cafeteria again, after he had been in a fight on his own. He had a black eye, and the right side of his face was swollen, but the other man was in a worse condition.

He looked up as someone sat down opposite to him, one of the few tables which weren't full, and therefore perfectly reasonable and normal, nothing people could grow wary of.

A piece of paper was slipped under his table by spidery, long fingers, and before James could even react Q stood up again and left, covering it as a walk to the toilets.

_'Wickedness.'_

James ripped the paper into pieces once he was in his cell, then swallowed every single one, ignoring the taste in his mouth. His cell mate returned from dinner, whistling as he saw James' eye.

"Killed him?"

James snorted. "Should have."

The other laughed and fell onto his bed, taking his book. Something James could remember as a book about escaping from an island, ironic considering that he had failed to succeed twice already. James looked up at the ceiling, trying to blend out his fear.

It was the fourth time James saw Q, one week later. He hadn't heard from Q since then, had not got a message, but it could also mean that he was being successful or being watched.

It wasn't a reason to worry, nor a reason to make M take Q out of here.

What happened was.

He woke up just for lunch and got walked into the cafeteria, some men looking up as he entered. There was an aura around him, rumours having spread, his scars speaking of danger, and danger they tried to avoid. James glared at one looking at his eye for too long, and the man lowered his glance.

They had mashed potatoes that day, carrots and some beef, dry and without any gravy.

They also had a brawl that day, which ended in something James had hoped would not happen.

It started with a shout, and the sound of plates breaking. Someone screamed and someone laughed, a _thump_ indicating that something had fallen down. Everyone looked up, James' eyes finding Q's before the younger man looked away again, saying something the agent couldn't hear.

The man opposite to him jumped on his feet, gripped Q at the collar and lifted him up, no guard stepping in.

James nearly shouted for one, but stayed silent, only watched.

It was four against one, three muscular men against a skinny and bony young boy whose face was soon covered in red, sticky blood. His glasses cracked, shards on the ground, and in one motion Q drew his arms up to protect his face and throat, curling up into the ball.

Some prisoners laughed and pointed at the scene, the rest like James sat there in silence as they pulled Q up again to push him against the table.

Face flat onto the table, legs spread, hands forced on his back. The sick and twisted sound of bones breaking echoed from the walls, a collective 'Ow!' going through the crowd. Q screamed out in pain and sobbed, and one of them kicked into his back, forcing him to arch his back, muscles and bones visible as his shirt slipped up.

"Well look a' that", one laughed, slapping Q's rear, "Pretty boy's all peachy."

"Bet his boyfriend's happy."

"Can he even take it up the arse?"

The four laughed and slapped Q again, ignoring how the younger man made a noise as he wanted to vomit, but swallowed the bile and forced himself to hold still.

"Betcha."

Q said something, very quietly, and they turned him around, one stepping between his legs to be closer. James let out a long breath, about to see red, adrenaline pumping through his body, making him want to snap and kill.

"What did you say, twat?"

"Wanker", Q repeated, spitting into the man's face.

The fist hit him hard, nose breaking, blood spilling. Q spit out a tooth and wet his lips, only raising an eyebrow. James gritted his teeth, muscles tensing.

"Care to repeat that to my face, you little shit?"

"Wanker." Q grinned. "W-a-n-k-e-r. In case you don't know that word, let me choose another. Tosser. Know that one?"

"You fucking poof, I swear I'll punch you up bad enough for your faggot friends to laugh at you!"

Q only grinned, groaning out in pain at a punch to his chest. James could hear his rips give in, cracking loudly enough for anyone to probably hear it, everyone close enough to the scene.

Only as someone shouted for a guard - a tiny voice from the corner - and the men reacted, the prisoners threw Q onto the ground and ran away.

James helplessly watched as Q tried to sit up, slipping in his own blood. He coughed, tears running down his cheeks.

For Queen and Country, the agent thought, for Queen and Country.


	192. Chapter 192

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt: Catboy!Q, Werewolf!James and Fluff! XD"
> 
>  ** _and_** _also for a prompt in which the anon wanted James to mark Q as his mate, being very possessive. Tumblr deleted it though, so sorry :/_

James bared his teeth at Q and took a step closer, sniffing the air.

He smelled of cat, like always, of machines, fuel and technology, and of tea. But there was the faint scent of something lingering on his skin, sharp in his nose.

James' nostrils flared, his inner wolf snarling and growling, anger - boiling, hot and like fire - pulsating in his veins.

"Are you done growling at a none-existing threat or can I do my work now?", Q asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His tail flicked, curled around his leg.

Black, furry, fluffy, and soft, which James could confirm from several nights spent with him in bed, of hearing Q purr as he kissed his skin, ran his hand through the other's hair, stroking his ears. Of licking over his skin and nuzzle his neck, tempted to bite into his skin, to mark him as his.

They hadn't talked about this mating-thing yet, and James didn't know if hybrids had mates. It was pack dynamics, something wolves did, and cats not.

He was slowly rubbing his scent on him, though, as subtly as possible. A kiss on the neck here, a bite into his skin there, his shirt instead of Q's, a coinsidence of course, nothing he had planned.

But apparently it hadn't worked. Because there was another person's scent on Q's body, and it made the wolf inside James want to pin him against the wall, and make sure it would disappear soon again. Q was his, and his only.

The possessiveness wasn't something new for him, it was an old friend, a colleague even. He embraced it mentally, allowed it to run wild and free, mess up his mind and made him see red whenever someone dared to touch _his_ Q or flirt with him.

Q didn't know it yet, but he was James'.

And someone had dared to leave his scent on his kitten. Would he find out who it was, he would punish him or her for that, would make them pay.

Right now, though, James had to get that scent off Q, before someone else would think that Q was free to claim and mark.

He reached out to the other's shoulder and put a hand on it, softly pushing him backwards into the wall, the cat's back hitting the wall. Q gasped, and James used this for his advantage, crushing his lips on Q's.

Claws digged into his shoulders as Q wrapped his arms around James' neck and purred. James reached out to his tail and let his fingers brush over the furr, feeling it wrap around his wrist gently.

James smiled into the kiss, lips trailing down over Q's chin to his throat, over his skin to his neck.

He gave him a second or two to calm down enough to realise what James was about to do, and as Q titled his head a bit to the side, offering his neck, James took it as an allowance or invitation.

He bit down carefully, teeth growing into fangs, eyes shining in a bright blue, icy yet warm. The taste of blood filled his mouth, making his inner animal growl, a pleased humm leaving his mouth.

It was a mark, visible just above Q's collar. He had marked him as his now, which wasn't as obvious for everyone as scent-marking would be, but it would be enough for now. His scent was on Q's neck and everyone would notice it, especially now that the marks of canine teeth were visible, and James was MI6's only werewolf.

Licking over the wound he had caused, James waited until the blood flow stopped, crimson drops on beautiful pale skin.

Q's ears stood to attention, twitching once or twice, listening for footsteps or the sign that someone would interrupt their private moment. His tail was waggling contently, and he was purring.

A deep, pure noise, vibrating from his throat and chest, making James smile for a moment.

"You are mine now, Q", he muttered, kissing Q again, "And soon enough everyone will smell it."

"We are one of the few supernatural species, James", Q corrected, raising an amused eyebrow, "Normal people don't smell that."

James grinned. "Oh they will. Even they can feel it."

Q rolled his eyes and stepped away, correcting his tie and cardigan again. James growled as he saw the mark, red against white skin, visible for everyone, _his mark_.

The inner wolf made a pleased noise, and scratched on the edge of James' mind, wanting to come out and scent-mark, licking Q's neck.

The cat's tail waggled again as if he knew, and he winked, mouthing a "Later" as a minion passed them, quickly trying to get out of harm's reach. James leant over to kiss Q's cheek, whispering against his skin.

He left, not seeing how Q blushed lightly.

Later.

Definitely later, then everyone would know Q was his and his only. The shapeshifter from medical would know, and the humans would too, James would make sure of that.

He went down to Q-branch later to pick Q up, surprised to see Q talk to the shapeshifter, a hyena as far as James knew. They laughed, giggled, and Q's tail was waggling in exitement, far too fast for a polite conversation.

It made him feel anger, and worry. Also jealousy, but that was an emotion he was used to by now.

He approached them, seeing how the doctor's nostrils flared, eyes widening in surprise. James wrapped an arm around Q's shoulders and kissed his cheek, looking at the doctor with an intense glare.

The man left, and Q blinked.

"Did you just scare him away?"

"He touched you earlier", James said, "You are mine."

Q rolled his eyes. "Yes yes, yours."

James growled into his ear, enjoying how Q shivered. Later, definitely later. And he'd enjoy it.


	193. Chapter 193

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hello, if you're still taking prompts for your wondrous 00Q drabbles here's one: Alpha/Beta/Omega or your shapeshifting universe where James and Q are already together. Q's suffering from PTSD and refuses to let anyone touch him, even Bond. Cue Bond having to slowly integrate physical touch and trust back into Q's life."

"You didn't claim him", Moneypenny stated as James entered the room, heading to M's office for debriefing.

Bond stopped and turned around, blinking once, twice, before he realised what she meant. His expression darkened, face going blank and teeth gritted, trying to hold back the snarl which wanted to come out.

It wasn't her fault that she was the third person to say that to him since he had returned, and letting it out on her wouldn't be fair.

Fairness normally wasn't something he cared for, but Q had changed him a bit. He saw emotional distress where he hadn't before, saw when someone was just asking out of politeness, and not out of some reason he could go against.

Rumours went around, people talked, put their noses into business which wasn't theirs, all only because James' scent wasn't on Q, and because he didn't have a mark.

"No I didn't", James replied, stopping in front of her desk.

She wore a lovely dress today, dark blue, and her nails were as long as claws. She didn't even have to turn to be like a cat, a beautiful black panther, lethal and deadly, something which shouldn't be messed with.

"Why?"

He hesitated, looking down at her. She simply returned his gaze calmly, an eyebrow raised, eyes hard. James sighed.

She had a right to know, he supposed, before some wrong information could make the round. He had been around for a while, had heard stories about people being mocked and discriminated, and the Quartermaster being a shapeshifter would cause enough havoc already. Q wouldn't need people wondering about why James wasn't marking him.

"He...", James started, folding his hands behind his back, watching her carefully choosing his words, "He doesn't want me to touch him, which would be required for bonding or mating."

Eve frowned, stopping in her typing. "What do you mean he doesn't want you to touch him? Are you-"

James growled. "He's my mate, Eve, I would never hurt him."

She lifted her hands in defense and his shoulders sank down a bit, inner animal still tense and baring its teeth, hackles risen. Throwing a glance towards the door to M's office he gave a sigh - M could wait for a bit longer.

"So he doesn't let you touch him." James nodded. "As far as I'm concerned he doesn't let anyone touch him, not even me and I'm a Beta."

"It doesn't matter what you are, Eve, he doesn't let anyone touch him", James said quietly, leaning down a bit, "He doesn't have any good experiences with being touched or in a relationship, and suffers from PTSD."

Her eyes widened visibly. "PTSD? What did they do to him?"

James shook his head, taking a step backwards again. "He didn't tell me. I won't force him to, and should he ever tell me I will keep it a secret. All I can do is give him some time."

She suddenly smiled, reaching out to her cup of coffee. "Where do you have that from?"

"The Internet."

Eve giggled quietly and James growled, a low noise vibrating from his throat. She didn't seem to be impressed and just gestured to the door, knowing that M was waiting. He nodded, turning around.

"Bond?"

He turned his head to look at her. "Yes?" He smirked.

"Share your cologne with him. Give him a shirt of yours, a worn one. People might get interested in him now that everyone knows he's with you, but not claimed." She paused. "Take care of him, please. And take your time."

James raised his eyebrows at her, but had to grin. "Thank you, Miss Moneypenny, you should help the poor souls on the internet. They might need an advice or two."

He turned around and left, entering the office where M was already waiting. His thoughts radiated around Q, and what Eve had said.

xx

"James wake up."

The wolf cracked an eye open and huffed, sitting up slowly. Q was standing in front of him, with his arms crossed and dressed in his pyjama, feet bare. Fresh out of bed, he assumed, shifting back slowly enough for Q to turn around until James had put his trousers on.

James took it as a good sign that he turned around immediately after, watching James put on a shirt and stretch sleepily. He could remember the beginning of their relationship when Q hadn't entered the room until James had been dressed completely.

"Good morning love", James greeted after a yawn, tongue curling against the back of his teeth which were still growing back from fangs into normal, human ones.

Q didn't seem to care about that though, and just pushed his glasses up his nose. "We're going to be too late, James. You overslept."

James grinned. "But so did you, Q. Don't just blame me." At Q's blank stare he stood up, carefully passing him to go into the bathroom. Q took a step backwards, but seemed calm enough, no signs of the crying mess he had been after James' first and only attempt to touch him.

He hadn't known - how could he have? Q had never shown any signs of suffering from any kind of trauma, he had said he wasn't a touchy person, and James hadn't tried to touch him until after their fourth date. He couldn't have known, yet he still felt guilty for bringing up old scars and memories.

"Will you be working all day again?", he asked loudly from underneath the shower, reaching out to his shampoo, "Or can I actually spend some time with my mate?"

James could practically hear Q's snort. "It depends on what you want to do."

"Be at home, or maybe go into theatre?"

Q joined him in the bathroom, but stayed away from the shower. James was hidden behind the curtain, and if Q could see anything then it was his shadow moving behind the piece of fabric. The Alpha didn't have to check to know that Q was tense, always checking if James still was in the cabin, and not moving out.

James heard him open the closet above the basin, to take out soap or something else. He stuck his head out, ignoring how his stomach cramped as Q jumped, eyes widening slightly.

"I put you a bottle with cologne out, why don't you try it?"

Q looked at said object as if it had attacked him, carefully reaching out to it. "And why?"

"It will tell people to stay away from you because they know it from me. I worry, Q, people might try to attack you now that you are with me, and I didn't claim you", James calmly explained.

Q's grip around the bottle tightened as James mentioned claiming, knuckles white and hand shaking. James gave him several moments to collect himself, for the mask to slip back into place again.

"I won't force you, Q, but please consider it."

He went back into the shower and turned the water back on, sighing as the warmth made his muscles relax after a hard day at work, training and fighting against double-oh-two in training. Even with the water running he could hear the noise of a lid being taken off, and the noise of cologne being sprayed.

James smiled to himself and waited until Q had left the room again before he left the cabin, dried himself and put his clothes on. He took a shirt out of their laundry, one with his scent radiating off it.

He threw it in Q's direction, passing him and stepping behind him. "Please?"

Q sighed and made a move to stand up, but stopped as James leant down. He pressed a kiss to Q's head, lingered for a moment.

At first the younger shifter tensed, muscles visible underneath his white skin. James already was about to apologise and drew back again, but Q already relaxed again and went into the bathroom.

He came out in James' shirt, a cardigan put over it, but the scent was almost palpable in the air. It made James' inner animal growl in a pleased way, possessiveness inside him growing and twisting.

Q gestured to the door, but James stopped him again by offering his hand.

The younger looked down at it and frowned, then looked back up at James. They looked at each other for minutes at least, time passing painfully slowly. James waited, patiently even, keeping his face neutral.

Q could take his hand, or he could not, it depended on him.

Eventually Q sighed and took James' hand, being tense all the way down, but James took it as some kind of victory.

They made progress, slowly.

He began to greet Q with a kiss to his head every morning, and time after time he had got used to it. He even smiled, and that made James smile.

Tiny steps, progress. That was all he was asking for.


	194. Chapter 194

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt: 00-7/Assassin's Creed crossover. Since I love Italy, and James Bond does come from money and lost his family, I'm thinking his parents were wrongly exicuted when he was a child, abd he got taken in by the assassin's brotherhood. There he want through training and became their number one assassin. Q can be Leonardo DaVinci, and builds all of Bonds equipment. Make it take place during a mission, that should be good."

There were many people around him, so it was easy for him to blend in. Become one of the civilians, hiding amongst theim from the guards which were searching him.

His destination was a tiny bench on the other side of the city, hidden somewhere from the sight of the guards on the streets, looking for any sign of him. He couldn't really blame them for his paranoia, because it was reasonable and probably the smartest thing they have done lately.

James smirked, turning around the corner, going from one group to the other, blending in once again. He flirted a bit with one of the women, made her compliments, watched her blush. They passed a guard who just rolled his eyes at James for whispering something in her ear which made her blush, and the moment he was out of sight James disappeared and went into a side-alley.

There - conveniently - was a bench which he could use to get up the wall, fingers grasping the wood to get up, nearly slipping but he easily caught himself.

The movements were easy, the order of things a routine. He climbed, using some loose stones to push himself up, crawling up almost like a spider, only with more elegance.

Over the roofs of several houses, he made his way towards his destination, watching the sun above his head to meassure the time. He'd be late, most likely, which wouldn't amuse the other and only annoy him, but James wouldn't be James wouldn't he manage to get out of the situation with a charming smile and some sweet words.

He jumped down, caught himself with the help of a balcony and landed on the ground, ignoring the surprised shout of a man he had nearly landed on as he walked away, disappearing in the crowd.

The city was full with people today, all here to watch the politicians talk about their decisions and ideas of how to make the city better. It all was a plan of course, one James was determined to stop and prevent from successfully happening.

Money meant loyality, in most cases, and the guards weren't the most loyal ones, because the moment the coins had been handed over they had sung, and how beautifully they had. The location of the politician's room was known to the assassins, and also who they had to look for. A nice bullet to the head would end it, or if James felt like hiding and breaking in it would be the blade of his knife.

Speaking of said, he thought, letting the hidden blade slip out of its hideout underneath his sleeve, going right over where his finger usually would be, Q had to look over it.

No one knew why Q insisted on calling himself by the letter, but everyone had to respect it if they wanted their weapons to work. Some said it meant Quartermaster, though it made little sense. Q worked for many people, always helping an assassin in danger, repairing blades and coming up with new shiny stuff.

He was known under another name, famous within the ranks of artists, women chuckling when they saw him.

James knew how Q looked like when he was faking interest, and when he genuinely was.

He also knew how Q looked like flustered, with a pink blush spreading out on his cheeks, and he knew how he looked like moaning and squirming underneath James, moaning his name like it was the most beautiful melody existing.

The assassin knew how to make him scream, and used this ability to his advantage. There was a reason he always got the best weapons.

James slipped onto the bench once he found it, searching for the 'Q' carved into the wood, finding it on bottom of the bench. As he looked up again, there was someone sitting next to him, lanky and slender, with a hoodie on the person's head.

It didn't take a genius to know who it was, and he put on a grin. "You are late."

"I am not late, Bond, I've been here for ten minutes by now." Q put down his hoodie, running a hand through his hair to only mess it up a bit more, several wisps of it covering Q's face. "Your weapon needs some adjustments?"

James nodded and showed him the blade, careful not to move as Q examined it, running his finger over the sharp side. 

_Suicidal idiot_.

"You'll need a new one", Q finally stated, leaning back again, looking at the people passing them without any interest.

James hid the blade again and folded his hands in his lap, shamelessly staring at his Quartermaster in interest. There was the lightest trail of stubble on Q's cheeks, dark and almost black like his curly hair, painfully visible in contrast to his pale skin.

"You forgot to shave."

Q squirmed on the bench and turned his head away, most likely blushing. James grinned and lifted his hand, caressing Q's cheek almost gently.

"I was working."

"On?", James asked, genuinely curious. He hadn't seen his lover in days, too busy searching information about the mark. It was hard to get into Q's house without being caught on the roofs or getting seen, and not always did he find someone within the walls.

"A painting."

"An artist who paints, where it the innovation you talked about the first time we meet?"

Q looked at James again and raised his eyebrows, looking so unimpressed that it was almost funny, and made James' grin get wider. "Not everything I do can be used to kill someone, Bond, some of us actually have to work in a proper job."

James tried to look hurt. "What's not proper about assassinating people?"

"That you are being hunted for it." Q cleared his throat, wanting to change the subject. "I'm drawing something special."

"And what?"

"You'll have to wait." Q moved his cape a bit to the side and took out a wooden box, handing it over to James who took it and opened it.

Inside he found a gun, tinier than his old and less visible, in the colour of his clothes. James took the old one out and gave it to Q, putting the new gun in. He aimed for a bird in the sky, but didn't shoot. It would draw attention to them, and if there was something he didn't want to do it was bringing Q into danger.

Every day the templars could come into his rooms and take Q away.

They could kill him every day and James wouldn't find out until he'd meet the substitute for him, some youngster who had no idea about the dangers of being involved with the assassins. It might happen any day, and it scared James.

Death was nothing, an old friend, a lost lover and an acquaintance he'd never get rid off. But Q was something which could be taken away, a force which couldn't be predicted nor controlled, something strong yet vulnerable.

James hated being in love. It made him fear the most trivial things, made him unconcentrated, biased.

Q could wash away the pain of every mission, of his emotional scars, away with one smile. This was power James would never have, and which no one else would be able to mess with.

"A new gun, obviously. The bullets are tinier, but still as lethal as the ones before. It makes less noise", Q explained, reaching out to make sure the gun was positioned correctly, fingers brushing James' palm and fingers.

James took his hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed the skin, slowly standing up. "When will the blade be ready?"

"This evening", Q replied, putting his hoodie on again, "Just come to my rooms. I'll be there."

James nodded, disappearing in the crowd. He tried not to look back, but he ended up doing anyway - no sign of Q anymore.

xx  
xx

"Well?"

"Well?", James repeated, titling his head.

"What do you see?"

The assassin threw an arm over Q's shoulders and pulled him against his chest, delighted as the artist curled into his side, head resting on James' chest. Ear right above his heart, still beating rapidly from the actions of the night.

"A bloody big ship."

Q hit his side and huffed, pulling the blanket up over his body. Pale, beautiful, skin shining in the light of the moon falling in through the window.

"I worked for days on this and that's all you have to say?"

James titled his head up and kiss him. "Your ability to draw ships is impressive, my love, and shall never cease to amaze me."

Q stuck his tongue out, glaring. "Idiot."

"That hurt."

"Not as much as the swords they'll put through your stomach when you try to kill that politician tomorrow."

James hummed, closing his eyes in exhaustion. The night washed over them, lulling them into a deep slumber, Q securely in James' arms, his breath brushing his skin.


	195. Chapter 195

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Prompt : They had an argument. When James comes home, he find Q with his cat on the floor(or bed). hurt/comfort"
> 
> **_and_ **
> 
> “hi :) Prompt : Q and James are a couple. James want to have sex but Q it too tired to that.”
> 
> **_and_ **
> 
> “hellow. you still take a prompt? if so.. bond and q are together. and q have a cat(who is very ill). q is worried, james tries to help. hurt/comfort. thank you"

James' lips trailed over Q's neck, over his pulse point to his throat, licking over the adam's apple softly. One hand was tangled in Q's thick, curly hair, the other roamed over his side, trailing the almost feminine curves of his lover's body.

Q patted his hand away, looking up from his tablet, eyebrows raised. "No."

James frowned. "No? What do you mean?"

Of course he knew the word 'No', only an idiot didn't. In his line of work it was a word frequently needed, and he could say it in reply to questions in at least ten or more languages, even those he wasn't fluid in.

But in this context he didn't know what Q meant. It was equally frustrating as confusing, and he looked up from where he had softly been sucking on Q's white, pale skin, a faint red mark already visible in contrast to the alabastern colour.

"No means that I have been up for forty-seven hours at least and I have a headache, so therefore no means I'm not in the mood for sex right now."

Q lifted his tablet again and tapped something on it, then moved his fingers to scroll. He seemed to be distracted enough, reading something, his eyes moving rapidly behind those glasses.

James kissed his skin again, tongue darting out between his lips, licking softly over a fading mark from a few days ago, which James had left right before leaving for Italy.

He managed to get down to Q's collarbone, trailing the outlined bone softly, but was being pushed away by Q who was glaring at him angrily.

"No, James, I said no sex."

"I have been gone for five days, Q", James said as he sat up slowly, ignoring the aching in his side, a painful yet dull pulsating of the wound he had gained during a fight, hand-to-hand combat, "I missed you."

Q raised an eyebrow at him. "And because you haven't seen me in five days you decide to ignore my request and insist on having sex?"

The agent blinked. "We are in a relationship, love."

"So?"

James leant back against the headboard and crossed his arms, seeing how Q closed up. Almost like they were about to have an argument, he thought, watching the anger written on Q's features spread out, get more visible. Q gritted his teeth, putting his tablet away.

"A relationship isn't about sex only, James. I thought we've had this conversation before."

"I know that, Q." James' expression hardened. "Are you suggesting I don't know how a relationship works?"

Q only looked at him coldly, wetting his lower lip.

Bond stared. "Are you seriously thinking that?"

"Sex is a weapon for you, James. A relationship isn't about winning and being the one in charge, and it certainly isn't about avoiding any kind of conflict by fucking me into the matress." Q's voice got a bit louder again, making James wonder if this only was about him having tried to make Q agree to sex right now, or something more serious. "And it isn't about getting me to agree to things with your cock only, do you have any idea that you are disrespecting me this way?"

"I don't know what your problem is, Q, and honestly, I don't see a reason to be against sex like you are."

"Against sex?", Q repeated, throwing the blanket off his body and getting up, his cat circling his legs, meowing softly.

That fucking piece of fur, James thought as he followed Q into the living room, not wanting to let that subject drop.

"If I'd be against sex, my dear James, I wouldn't be together with you, would I? Because all you can think about it getting off and your cock into my arse or some woman's cunt, even if you don't have to."

"You know that I sometimes have to to get information", James growled out, arms crossed in front of his chest, "It's not like I enjoy it."

Q laughed, a bitter, dark sound, and James was torn between stopping right here and there before either one would say something they'd regret, or if he wanted to shake Q and make him realise how stupid he was being.

"I'd say you enjoy it, judging from the noises you are making and the sweet words you whisper into their ears", Q hissed, " _I'm going to make you feel so good, I'm going to make you scream_? Does that ring a bell?"

James reached out to get his jacket, storming towards the door. Q screamed something after him, probably some kind of curse or something along those lines, but James hardly cared as he threw the door open and stepped into the night, ground cold underneath his bare feet.

He walked away, heading to the closest bar.

xx  
xx

There was a woman flirting with him, but as her nails scratched over his skin he told her that he had a boyfriend, and she left after some cursing.

It had been the automatic reaction, and as he sat there staring into his half-empty glass of cheap beer, he wondered if he really was such a horrible boyfriend, and if Q had meant any of those words.

Was James really using sex as a weapon only, going through woman after woman, making Q feel like he was nothing special? Was he really trying to avoid any kind of argument or conflict by having sex, whispering words into Q's ear, licking over his sweaty skin and making him scream? Was he that horrible, that broken that he hadn't seen his lover's frustration?

And why was he here, drinking in a bar, when he had a boyfriend waiting at home for him?

Or not, James thought bitterly, from what they had thrown at each other's heads it wouldn't surprise him would Q hide at Q-branch, ready to hack into James' computer and give him some kind of virus, or set up his phone to play one of those modern songs James despised so much.

He downed his beer in one gulp and then left, walking through the night. He had found some shoes somewhere, but still felt cold without socks, trying to get back home as quickly as possible, while still being hesistant.

Maybe Q would throw him out of the flat, maybe he would scream at James and would break up with him.

James expected anything, but what he faced as he entered the flat, as silently as possible.

There was Q, laying on the floor of their living room, curled around something which was purring quietly, yet not the usual noise the ball of fur made whenever he was content, being petted or stroked, or just happy about his lazy life.

It was something which made James stop in his tracks and wonder what was going on, especially since Q was whispering words to his cat, letting it lick his hand. Q's expression was worried, his skin paler, and he clung onto the cat like he was afraid the animal would vanish.

"Q?"

Q sniffed and looked up, eyes puffy and red. James' heart clutched in his chest and he took his jacket off, sitting down onto the carpet nexto his lover.

"What is wrong?"

"He threw up blood and started purring, which is a sign for great pain or death ahead and not only a sign of pleasure", Q mumbled, stroking along the cat's back, "I don't know what is wrong and no vet is open now."

James' expression softened as he heard this, and carefully he pulled Q up into his arms, pulling him and the cat against his chest. He didn't even mind the fur he got onto his shirt, nor the tiny claws digging into his skin.

"How much blood did he throw up?"

"Not much, a tiny cup perhaps", Q replied, burying his face in James' neck, "What if it's something serious? What if he's dying? I don't know what to do, there aren't any information in the Internet I'd trust without hesitation, and I already googled the symptoms."

"Even I know you shouldn't google medical things, love, they take a headache as a sign for cancer", James sighed, "When was it?"

"Shortly after you left."

Q's voice was so weak, so vulnerable and quiet it made James feel and share his pain. Resting his head on Q's, he pressed a soft kiss to his curls, one of his hands coming up to scatch the cat behind his ears. He purred, tiny tail curling around James' wrist.

James smiled weakly. "Everything'll be fine, I promise. In the morning we'll go to the vet, and see what's wrong."

The Quartermaster nodded and curled closer, grip around his cat tightening. James let his eyes fall closed, sitting there with Q until the sun broke through the clouds in the sky, light falling into the room.

Q's breath was regular and soft, his expression peaceful.

James looked down onto the cat, and the cat looked back through wide, yellow-ish eyes.

"You better be fine", the agent mumbled, letting the cat nibble on his fingertip, "Or I'll hunt you down."

The cat meowed, making James smile.

Stupid animal, he whispered, not wanting to wake Q up. He had never been fond of the cat, since it always brought fur onto his suits, stole Q's attention and was noisy when hungry or sleepy, but Q liked it, and James had little to no choice but accept that.

He leant down to kiss the cat's head, then Q's, both humming (or purring, in the cat's case). Q snuggled closer, the argument forgotten.


	196. Chapter 196

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hi I am sure you are busy but I have an interesting Prompt. James and Q are not exactly together because he met someone. James is friends with Q's Brothers. Who call James when Q once again fails to come to a family gathering. Q claiming his boyfriend is ill and he has to stay with him but they suspect Q is being physically abused and James comes and sees him being abused and "Takes Care" of the boyfriend as Q's brothers take him to their home."
> 
> **_and_ **
> 
> "I’m not sure if you’ve done this one before, so sorry if you have. Q is in an abusive relationship and Bond finds out. Or alternatively, Q has an eating disorder and Bond makes him report it to M to get help. Protective!Bond is the best.”

_"Bond."_

James sighed into his phone and looked around, easily spotting the camera watching him from the building opposite to the café he was sitting in. He leant back and let out a long breath, sipping at his coffee.

"How can I help you today, Mycroft?", he asked, leaning back a bit.

He didn't know when the Holmes brothers had decided to choose James as their messenger regarding Q, or since when he was Q's personal babysitter, but what he knew was that he had little to say in this.

No one knew about what Mycroft did, not even Sherlock, and Q was silent in that regard, never told anything, never offered any kind of sensitive information James might use to figure it out.

It had to be something powerful, a position with influence. Even M seemed to know Mycroft Holmes, the name ringing bells, opening doors and most importantly, making it impossible for James to get a moment of peace on his day off.

He had just returned from a mission and had something alike a vacation until the next assignment would require him to fly out of country again, and it seemed as if Mycroft Holmes decided to use this time off and re-label it as 'Time to spy on Q'.

_"Have you seen Q today?"_

James sighed into his mug. Bloody paranoid, far too influental brothers with the tendency to let people spy on their youngest brother, and bloody phone which could be tracked down so easily.

He had to get a new one, it seemed, though he was sure Mycroft would find it regardless.

"No I have not, I have a day off", James said into the phone, pushing his sunglasses up his nose, "It is more than likely that he is at work. Why don't you for once just call him?"

Mycroft let out a long breath, and James imagined him pursing his lips in this typical and signature, Holmesian huff.

_"He called earlier this morning claiming that his boyfriend is ill."_

James' grip around the handle tightened, knuckles going white. The name of the boyfriend lay on his tongue, almost like a curse. He was about to spit it out but didn't, just bit into his lower lip in something alike annoyance.

"Richard", he stated, staring down onto his mug, "He has been ill quite often recently."

_"So did Sherlock say. It's also an interesting coinsidence that he always seems to be ill whenever we planned on having a family gathering."_

Again, James wanted to ask, choosing to stay silent. This all seemed to be wrong, and he had a bad feeling in his gut. Something was off, and while James had never liked Richard in any way - his hatred burnt hot and with great intensity - this was making him worry the worst.

_"Sherlock and I have our assumptions but the last time we have seen him has been a while ago. It might not be accurate."_

"If you assume that Richard hurts him, then I have to agree with you", James said, already taking out his wallet to put more than enough money onto the table, getting up and to his car, "I've had this idea for a little while by now, though I didn't want to dig my nose into his business. He makes my weapons."

James opened the car and got onto the driver's seat, turning the phone on speaker. He wouldn't care about the traffic laws, but would he get caught by the police it would waste time; time he needed because if his fear was to turn out as the truth, Q was in danger.

In very serious, very life-threatening danger. "I'm on my way to him now."

He could hear muffled voices, someone speaking to another person. The sharp intonation, the way the words were spoken, it had to be Sherlock and James rolled his eyes.

If the two of them had known or had their assumptions, why not going in on their own? Why waiting for James to turn up and save the day?

Sherlock had got himself in far worse situations - for fuck's sake, he had faked his own death for the sake of saving his doctor's arse, yet he couldn't go and check on his brother?

Blasted bastards.

 _"Sherlock will join you"_ , Mycroft informed him after a few moments of silence in which James had started the engine and got onto the street, Q's address saved in his mind for safety precautions, _"Amelie as well."_

"She has another name again? What was it last time, Maya?"

Mycroft sighed. _"Marie. Focus on the task ahead, Bond, Q might be in serious danger."_

_"I told you from the beginning that Richard is abusive, but of course you did not believe me!"_

"Hello to you too, Sherlock, no crime for you to obsess over today?"

Sherlock snorted, the sound of a door closing audible. James grinned, turning to a side-road to get to Q's flat not far away from the HQ.

 _"I assume you have your weapon with you?"_ , Mycroft asked with an annoyed sigh.

James felt with him. He would have killed Sherlock long ago, and Q would have helped him hide the corpse probably.

"I always have it with me, Mycroft. If this bastard hurt Q he won't have the chance to hurt anyone else ever again."

There was silence for a moment and James blinked, looking down at his phone. The connection still was on, and he could hear the faint noises Mycroft was making, the shuffle of papers, and the typing of keys.

"Mycroft?"

_"I know that your feelings for my brother might have a strong role in this, but please keep in mind that my brother has been through what you might call his personal hell. Do try to give him space."_

James opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. He would like to go to Mycroft and smash his head against the desk right now, but he assumed Anthea wouldn't even let him into the office and he'd end up being the one hurt, or dead. "I'll keep that in mind."

There was a pleased hum. _"Good. Feel free to tear Richard into pieces."_

Mycroft hung up, and James returned his gaze to the street, driving as soon as he got green light. He drove too fast, broke a few laws and nearly hit a child trying to cross the street, but he was in a hurry and he'd be damned would he leave Q with Sherlock.

The detective was already there, and John too. James gave the Captain a short nod, then took out his gun, releasing the safety.

John was about to do the same, but James shook his head, gestured to the doo and counted to three.

He kicked the door open, being greeted by a scream and a shout, Richard turning around from where he had Q pinned on the ground, a broken bottle of wine in his left hand.

James saw red.

Lifting the gun he shot the bastard into the stomach, then into his hand, the bottle breaking and shards raining down onto the ground, some landing on Q. There was blood spilling, and Q cried out, lifting his hands to his face to protect his vulnerable throat.

James shot again, then ran over and pulled Richard away from Q, the man screaming and cursing, speech slurred, and eyes bloodshot. He was drunk, smelled of alcohol and cigarettes, the scent alone making James' stomach turn and the anger grow.

He growled, punching Richard into the face, kicking him into the chest, hearing bones break and crack, a painful shout drawn from the man.

From the corner of his eyes James saw how Sherlock and John tried to get Q onto his feet, but the youngest Holmes only cried out in pain, legs giving in. John said something to James who just nodded, not having understood it but he figured they were taking Q to hospital or to Mycroft's estate.

James would follow, but first he had to take care of this wanker.

As the door fell closed, he looked down onto the whimpering mess of Richard on the ground, the man bleeding onto the carpet of what used to be Q's flat, but now they had shared it. James would make sure that he would move out, and leave this tosser behind.

"The first time I met you I knew that you were a bloody bastard, but this? What kind of man does hurt a young man like Ben?", he asked, choosing to use Q's real name, "You are an idiot, for doing this. For thinking you'd get away with it."

He rose his foot and crushed it down onto Richard's face, feeling his bones give in, blood spilling out of his nose, cheekbones breaking. James listened to him scream and spit onto him, rolling his sleeves up.

Richard didn't deserve to die. He would face Mycroft's wrath, but with a bit of meat less on his body.

James went into the kitchen, and returned with a knife.

xx  
xx

Mycroft's estate was a bit outside of London, far away from the chaos and mess of London's heart.

James didn't have a key, but the door was open as he arrived with bloody hands, face hard and blank. Sherlock passed him and nodded to him, John stayed. Q had never liked going to a doctor he did not trust, and John was the exception, so he got to help.

Or had already, because as James found Q in the living room, his wounds already were taken care of, bandages wrapped around his bony frame, a black eye and some bruises in his face.

His green eyes met James', and just as the agent was about to open his mouth to say something, Q shook his head.

James nodded, sitting down in an armchair across him, watching him with a soft smile.

He stayed with Q all day and night, falling asleep a little after Q did.

There was no need for Q to love him back, but James would do his best to make him see that he was loved, and that a relationship didn't mean being abused. He had time, and patience.


	197. Chapter 197

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shipimpala asked: "uh, hellow. I'm sick and I have a bad day... and today I read a lot about World War II. So... prompt ( au) : WWII. Air raids in London. Q and James are together. Q works for MI6 ( but he is not a person to fight on the frontline and he is really scared.) It's night, and Q is afraid to sleep. James tries to comfort him and calm. comfort/hurt/maybe angst. Thank you <3"

It was deep in the night, the city silent for once, no sirens, _nothing_ which could have kept him awake, but Q found himself unable to sleep.

The fear sat deep inside his soul and his bones, thoughts about death, the threat of being attacked and of loosing James in the bombs haunting his soul, causing tears to rush into his eyes.

Experts saw London with its nine million people living in 750 square miles as a top target for air attack and difficult to defend because of its size. _The bomber will always get through."_

Germany was a force not to be messed with, and they were at war with them. Q wanted to cry and leave the country, but no other was safe. He couldn't go to the US because it would require flying, and there was no bloody way he'd enter a plane after the statistics he had read.

Q was one of the many people working for Her Majesty's Secret Service, responsible for the Sabotage, one of the few staying in country and never leaving it.

He wasn't one to go out into the field, risk his life and get killed for the country's sake. Even though he was loyal, he knew where his home was and who he was working for, but he wasn't willing to die for his fatherland.

If there was anything, anyone, he was willing to die for, it was James. The old soldier, returning from war with a bullet wound in his shoulder, not capable of doing his job anymore. Q was glad, it meant that James stayed at home and was out of danger.

Sabotage consisted the sending of orders through the BBC radio and by aircraft, which was his part. The other agents were out of the field, manipulating the cables in a telephone junction box, bringing down bridges, causing the roof of a railroad tunnel to collapse.

It was something James had done in his active time as a soldier, before he had been forced to retire, and while James had let go of it by now and was used to the civilian life, Q couldn't. Because he wasn't a civilian, and he heard about the deaths of their soldiers every day.

London had been attacked last night, a few houses close to their flat having been destroyed in fire. It could have hit them.

They could have died, and the thought alone made Q tense, curling up a bit further.

"Love?"

Q let out a long breath and turned his head, seeing how James was struggling with waking up, eyes half-closed, blue sparkling in the darkness of the night.

"It's nothing, go back to sleep."

Last night James couldn't sleep because of the sound of bombs hitting stone, killing, breaking apart, setting on fire. The sirens had broken the silence of the night, children had cried, and Q had been close to breaking out in tears too.

It wouldn't get better, it would get worse, and Q worried for everything they had.

It wasn't much. A tiny flat in the middle of London, close to the HQ so Q didn't have to drive that long in times like these. They had a couch, a kitchen, and a radio, and they didn't need more.

No one knew about their relationship - how could they tell anyone? It were hard times, in which they could always end up burried underneath tons of rubble. Homophobia. There was little he could do.

"You've been awake for hours by now, I doubt that is what you should call nothing", James muttered, pressing a kiss to Q's bare shoulder, tasting dried sweat, "What is it?"

"I told you, it's nothing", Q whispered, staring at the wall next to the bed. He felt like it was mocking him, warning him that it wouldn't be standing tomorrow, or next week, anymore.

"Q, has anyone ever told you that you are a bad liar?"

The younger shook his head. "I'm working for the Secret Service, James, I can lie."

"But not to me", James said softly, stroking Q's hair. The younger leant into the touch, making a pleased noise. "Now spit it out."

Q sighed, closing his eyes. He was so incredibly tired, wanted nothing more but sleep, but he couldn't. His thoughts were haunting him, mocking him, and Q thought about swallowing his pills and knock himself out. James wouldn't let him most likely, being strictly against pills if someone besides him wanted him to take them.

Hypocrite.

"I'm scared."

"About?"

Q wet his lips once again. "About dying. About loosing you. The usual things."

James was silent for a moment and reached out to Q's shoulder, forcing him to turn around. Q looked up into his eyes and his own widened slightly, because there was so much love in James' it nearly hurt.

What did he do to deserve a man like this? What had he done to be given the love of a man like James Bond?

Q had no idea, but the thought of digging deeper, searching or a reply, made him worry about loosing James, which he wouldn't be able to survive. He'd be nothing without him.

"It's because of the air raids, isn't it?" Q just nodded, making James sigh. He leant down, kissing the other's forehead. "One word and we move away. Take a ship and travel to the US."

Q gave a weak smile, shaking his head. "There aren't any ships going into the US, especially not now."

"I'd kidnapp one for you, just the two of us."

Sometimes James was a romantic, even with his words being unconvential. He spoke about killing a man for Q would someone ever dare to insult him, talked about protecting him with his life, about hiding and running away.

It was cheesy, and calming, and Q felt himself relax a bit, shoulders still tense.

James threw an arm over Q's side and pulled him against his chest, Q's head coming to rest on his shoulder, perfectly fitting there. "Nothing will happen to us, love, no one can hurt you as long as I am here."

"There is nothing you could do against a bomb, James."

"I would die trying." James kissed Q's neck, burying his face in the messy curls. "Try to sleep, and remember that I'll keep you from any harm."

Q nodded and cuddled closer, legs tangled together, skin against skin, a beautiful warmth slowly lulling Q into sleep.

"Good night, love", James mumbled.

"Good night, James."

James fell asleep soon after again, but Q could not. He stared into the darkness outside, tried to find some sleep, a peaceful slumber, but all he saw was death.


	198. Chapter 198

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “shipimpala said: "I’m a person who really loves painful stories… This is beautiful and heartbreaking. Thank you so much! And yes, I always want more. Maybe something after war? They are trying to heal the wounds and start to live again. (hurt/comfort/angst/maybe)”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Part one](http://iamnotoneofthem.tumblr.com/post/43927491708/uh-hellow-im-sick-and-i-have-a-bad-day-and-today-i)

_Be brave, just take it all on the chin. Be more British than ever._

The words still were ringing in Q's ears, laughing at him every time he thought back, memories of the war keeping on playing in his head like a movie stuck in loop.

_If you're going through hell, keep going._

Easy to say, Q thought, glaring at the little piece of bread James had bought earlier. It wasn't much, but with bread being rationed, they didn't have the money for more. Q was happy with the bit of food they got, it meant James couldn't force him to eat more, though he was sure the elder would find a way.

Eat less to give his portion to Q, or shove it down his throat, making Q feel guilty for not eating when they had spent so much money on the food. James fought with dirty tricks, being the ex-soldier he was.

Maybe he could make something to eat, James would return any moment. Checking the situation, helping rebuild a house close by, being social. Making sure that the danger was over, before he would allow Q to leave the flat again.

Last time the younger had been out had been after the last attack, when they had ran to the air-raid shelter. There had been flames, still dancing behind Q's eyes, some houses broken apart by bombs.

Chaos, pure chaos. The mental images would never leave Q's head, would follow him into his dreams, turn them into nightmares.

When was the last time he had slept?

Yesterday? No, he had been working from home yesterday, going through some files. Not yesterday then.

Two days ago, maybe, or three perhaps. It was hard to tell when the clock lay in the corner, still ticking but not showing the time anymore. If Q would let James attack it again, it wouldn't even do that anymore. The ticking drove him crazy, James said, his way of admitting that _I'm suffering just like you do_.

The noise of bombs and the battlefield continued to play in their minds, in everyone's. James was worse off, or maybe Q was, he couldn't tell.

James lay awake in the night, staring out of the window with the gun in his lap, muscles tense, ready to jump onto his feet, storm out of the room and shoot everyone in the face who dared to get too close to his lover.

In the hours of the night, when everyone was sleeping, a peaceful silence only disturbed by the noise of people cleaning the streets, of women crying in the flats next, over and under them, he sat awake and restless, eyes empty, teeth gritted.

The shouts of his comrades kept on echoing in Q's head, their voices broken and hoarse over the radio frequency he had got into, and their last words of fear, of love, pain and loyality to the country, no one would hear them but him. No one would know what they went through because no one knew how hard they had fought to achieve the silence people now seemed to take for granted.

Attlee smiled into cameras, and told people that everything was fine.

James wanted to spit into his face, Q wanted to show him the recordings of people dying. Everyone had another way of coping with the trauma settling deep in their bones.

Someone opened the door as quietly as possible, but Q still flinched and turned around, eyes wide until he saw his lover, his expression falling a bit.

"What happened?", he asked, getting up immediately.

James looked pissed off, frankly, anger written on his face. He threw down a bag onto the ground then sat down on the couch, arm over the couch. Q joined him, curling into his side.

"I got controlled."

Q frowned. "What do you mean?"

"A police officer on duty asked me to show him my government-issued ID, claiming that he was controlling the people of England", James replied, wrapping his arm around Q's shoulder, pulling the younger man closer, "He wasn't too happy about reading my birthplace is in Germany."

The younger man tensed and looked up into his lover's face, counting wrinkles, old scars, wounds slowly fading into a soft, faint pink. Eyes, piercing and blue, sparkling with hatred Q had never seen in private.

Directed at some officials thinking they could mess with either of them, yes, but never when the two of them had been alone. Q turned his head, kissing James' neck, feeling his pulse beat gently underneath his skin.

It increased its pace a bit, James' hand on Q's shoulder tensing. He drew away, mumbling an apology, but James shook his head and pulled him close again.

"What happened?"

"They made me go to a police station, checked my records, made sure that I'm not a German spy, and then let me go again after finding my records from the Navy." James grimaced, teeth bared. "Have you eaten yet?"

Taken aback, Q shook his head. Only to nod immediately after realising his mistake, but it was already too late. James got onto his feet, heading to their kitchen where the bread still lay on the counter, cut into half, fresh, white, looking delicious and fluffy.

Q watched James cut off a thin piece, and walked over to the fridge, searching for something to put on it. Meat, cheese, but they had nothing and James would realise it soon enough.

"We need to go shopping again, love", James called out, making Q chuckle quietly, "Do we have some money left?"

"A bit, I think." Q stood up, taking their wallet to check. It wasn't much, but in a few days Q would get his money for the month and James would get his from the Navy, so they'd have a bit.

Outside, there was the sound of something breaking apart, and someone screamed.

It wasn't loud, nor anything really impressive in its volume, but it reminded Q of the sounds the bombs had made as they had killed human after human, women, men, children, all equal in death.

He saw colours flash in front of his eyes, sometimes white, sometimes black, all hot like fire.

His heartbeat raced and pounded, his chest hurt, his stomach turned and cramped; he felt lightheaded, and bile rise in his throat. Breathing became too hard, screams and shouts echoing in his brain, all so real yet it wasn't true, he was sure, but it was _so real_.

Hands tingling, chills running down his spine like a shiver, and something told him his legs were shaking but he wasn't sure about why, and if it only were his knees, or his feet, or both.

The heat of fire licked over his skin, burnt on his clothes, the noise of bones breaking right next to his ear causing him to jump backwards, nearly tripping over the couch. He vaguely could remember that he had to breathe, but it didn't seem important in this moment, not as important as it was to get away from the fire, and the people burning alive.

_"We lost contact, I repeat, we lost contact."_

_"Merde! Tire sur il! Maintenant!"_

_"Couchon nazi-"_

The terror, a sense that something unimaginably horrible was about to occur and that he was powerless to prevent it washed over Q like a wave, pushing against his chest and knocking all air out off his lungs.

Someone screamed, but he wasn't sure whether it was in his head, or if he was the one making the noise.

Over all this time Q had been sure that he would die.

Now that it was over, it all came back, and he fell down onto his knees, not noticing how James wrapped his arms around him, allowing Q to cling onto him desperately.

Q sobbed and burried his face in James' neck, beginning to cry.

"It's alright, Q", James mumbled, voice quiet, intonation forced like he was trying to stay calm, "It's going to be alright..."

Q shook his head, sniffing against his shoulder. "It won't. It won't, James, it fucking won't. We lost our great power status. We're not the great empire anymore."

James paused, looking down at him.

He knew Q's words were true. They won, but they lost too much. People have died, families torn apart, and soldiers never having returned to their country. Their names forgotten, their corpses laying in Germany, bound to turn into dust.

No one wanted to accept it, but while Attlee talked about victory, pride, and the British way of solving problems, the people suffered. They were hungry, they were traumatised, but apparently their great leader did not care about it.

We won, he thought bitterly, running a hand through his lover's hair, trying to calm him down, but Q couldn't stop crying.

A wall had broken in, the sound like a bomb.

That night, neither of them slept.

James looked into the darkness outside of the window, gun in his lap, gaze fixed upon the glass, and Q sat next to him on the couch, fingers curled around a mug which was empty and had been for weeks by now.

Neither said a word, trying to find comfort in the silence which so many had died for, which they had fought for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Merde! Tire sur il! Maintenant!" = "Shit! Shoot (on) him! Now!"_
> 
> _"Couchon nazi-" = "Nazi pig!"_


	199. Chapter 199

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Just caught up with your latest femme fatale!Q fic, and seriously loving it! Can we have a kind of follow up where Q salvages Bond's mission, maybe his mark is getting suspicious about how he managed to get into a highly secure private gathering without being invited, and Q, who was invited, steps in and claims he's her date, thank you in advance"
> 
> **_and_ **
> 
> “would you do another female Q. make her fierce and seductive and lethal. please. thank you.”

"Stop!"

Bond did as he was told, grip around his glass tightened a bit. A man close by lifted his head, but looked down again the moment he saw that it was security dealing with the person disturbing the peaceful atmosphere - James.

He sipped at his glass, turned around and raised an eyebrow, facing a muscular man, taller than James and threatening to everyone who had not been trained to kill people on sight, to shoot blind and break bones with a single motion. Yet, his size was impressive, James' fingers twitching in the instinct to get his gun and put a bullet through the Asian's skull.

"May I help you?", the agent calmly asked, keeping his face blank, eyes hard and daring.

He wasn't concerned about the situation, if he would be he most likely would be dead already.

An agent wasn't worried, even when a gun was aiming for their head, the barrel pressed against heated skin, cold in contrast. James had been in worse situations before, this was nothing. A dozen armed guards and criminals of all classes, countries and organisations, and amongst them was James' target.

Criminal hacker, selling sensible information for money and power. About to be killed and thrown off the yacht they were on, disappearing in the bloody ocean.

Russian, narcisstic, arrogant. Easy to be found, caught, and murdered.

This had been too easy so far, and the little problem was nothing James had to be concerned about. He had a gun underneath his jacket, an exploding pen in his pocket, and a team ready to get in and take care of everything should he need them.

James threw a glance on the clock hanging on one of the walls, above plates filled with ridiculously expensive, probably disgusting food. It was fascinating how people didn't care about how their food tasted, as long as they could wave with their money, and laugh about the poorer people.

It was slightly disturbing, yet James blended in perfectly. He came from money, and while he had wrinkles and scars, he knew he looked good in a suit.

Women winked, giggled, blushed, some men gave him a long glance before their attention went back to their partners or the conversations they were holding.

Light music was played, the faint tunes a violin produced, flying through the air. A melody James recognised, but couldn't name. There wasn't enough time to pause, trying to remember the title, not while being on an assignment.

"Please show me your invitation, sir", the man asked in a thick Russian accent, holding his paw-like hand open, waiting impatiently. His foot tapped on the ground, an unnerving rhythm.

James titled his head lightly in mocked irritation. "I showed it the guard on the upper deck. I cannot see why I should again."

The other just glared, left hand slowly moving to the inside of his jacket. James just was about to take out his own, blow his cover and just shoot every single person on this ship, but a voice interrupted them.

"Gentlemen, please", another Russian, but his voice was softer, almost like honey, "There is no need for violence."

James turned his head to regard the man, almost groaning out in annoyance. His target.

Letting out a long breath, he put on a charming smile, shook the man's hand as he arrived at the guard's side.

They exchanged a few words in Russian James easily could follow. They were suspicious, but that was clear and obvious. A few more guards were paying attention already, and a few more guests also.

"Can you please show me your invitation, Mister...?"

"Bond, James Bond", James replied immediately, eyebrows contracted. He sensed danger, sweet and palpable in the air, and it almost was possible for him to reach out and take it, turn it and twist it. "And I cannot."

The Russian frowned. "How come?"

Just as James was about to open his mouth to reply that he didn't have an invitation and end up being shot by at least ten guards at once, someone nest to him chuckled, and hands curled around his arm, delicate and thin.

Fingers of a woman, with short nails in comparison to some claws he had seen and felt on his skin before, pale smooth skin, and something which made James immediately realise who it was who attached herself to his arm.

_What was she doing here?_

"He doesn't have an invitation because he is with me, my dear", Q purred and smiled, her curly hair falling into her face. James reached out, pushing a wisp out of her face, and her smile turned into a smirk. "Thank you, James."

"I am sorry for the inconvenience, then", the Russian said and pushed his guard into the side who said the same, before both of them went away.

The guard disappeared in the crowd, but the Russian went to the closest group of women, beginning to flirt with each of them.

James looked down on Q, his throat going dry.

He had known that Q was beautiful - it was impossible not to notice it - but right now he would easily admit that she was the best-looking woman on the entire yacht.

Her hair was smooth, going down her shoulders like calm water, moving and almost dancing along her steps as she lead him away from the crowd, around a corner and behind a wall. Curly, dark brown and almost black, looking soft and silk.

And her dress.

It made James want to rip it off her body, kiss every inch of her skin and make her **scream**. His thoughts circled around this single purpose, this single aspect of it all, his glance wandering down her back as she went ahead of him, walking like only a confident woman knowing what she was doing would.

James gave a grin, tempted to reach out and trail her spine.

It was one of those dresses showing more than it was hiding, practically embracing her form and curves, a femme fatale James had a weak spot for.

It was green, just like her eyes, only lighter and less sharp. Half of the back was naked, so to say, down to her waist, bones visible and giving her something weak, vulnerable and breakable.

Going down to her feet it stopped right above the ground, but he could see her shoes and knew that she only was almost as tall as James because of them. Her job wasn't exactly feminine, but her shoes were. She could probably break through skin with the help of them.

Maybe even bones.

James hadn't seen much from the front, but there had been something sparkling, so he figured that there was some emeralds, white or colourless, sparkling in the colour of the light falling on them. Reflecting it, making it appear more beautiful than before.

"If you are finished staring at me, James, you can tell me why you are here", Q interrupted him, holding open the door to a room.

Judging from the three laptops on the bed, and the tablet on the table, it was hers.

The front of her dress was, he noticed as she turned to him, crossing her arms in front of her chest, just as teasing as her back. Showing skin, but not too much, even some on her stomach but James felt like she knew of the effect she was causing, and she was enjoying it far too much.

"Well Q, do tell me", he muttered, closing the door behind him, "Why am I here?"

She titled her head, some hair falling over her shoulder, the emerald on her earring sparkling in the dim light of the room. James took a step towards her, lifted his hand and moved some curls out of her face, faking a smile.

"A mark, I assume. And I hope it's not me you seek to kill." She returned his smile, just as faked as his. "Not having an invitation yet trying to get in, that's so typical you."

"And you know what is typical me, Q?", he hummed, "Stalking me?"

Her laugh was like music, yet it was honeysweet, and so wrong. He watched her take off her shoes, feet naked, dress slipping up to reveal long legs, thin and smooth.

"There is no need to stalk you to know what you like and what you are, James", she purred, leaning up to whisper into his ear, "And I know that right now, you want to see my dress on the floor, and your trousers on top."

James wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Her short nails scratched softly over her neck, trying to find the zip to open her dress.

He gave a low chuckle. "You know me well."

Turning her head into his direction, James let his lips brush her's, tasting lipstick. Hopefully, she didn't wear the poisonous today.

He had a job to do, but first the pleasure, then the work. Why pushing her off?


	200. Chapter 200

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> junetangerine asked: "Hello, you lovely and fantastic writer! Hope you're still taking 00q prompts. Here's mine: the late M was 007's guardian angel. Knowing she was to be discharged soon, she asked to personally oversee James' new angel, the young Q. Have fun and thank you!"

"He's so broken", Q mumbled quietly, folding his hands in his lap, "His soul is crying."

"If you can call that a soul, tiny chick."

Q settled back in his chair, crossing his legs, playing with the collar of his cardigan. Simple, yet beautiful. He liked the way it was soft, yet appropriate clothes for the working environment his superiors had put him in now. It wasn't a suit like James Bond wore, but Q had never understood the humans' ways of distinguishing between two pieces of fabric only because they were cut in a different way.

Suits, shirts, ties, bowties, trousers, pants, jeans, different styles in those categories, everything highly confusing for a young chick like Q was.

In human years, he would be older than humanity itself. He had seen wars, had seen centuries pass in the blink of an eye, had seen the Empire fall, built itself again, he had seen kings pass away and their sons take over, cutting each others' head off in a matter of seconds for nothing but a throne they'd loose after death again.

Humans were, an angel had once told him, strange creatures, but they tried. They learnt, they adapted, they used their natural disadvantages to build something beautiful. They loved, they hated, they cried, laughed, screamed, giggled, snorted, huffed, grunted or moaned, each sound showing another emotion, and even though it was the same as noises and it only was making a sense to the people was because they had been trained to understand it, they had developed so many languages.

He was currently learning Chinese, which was an interesting choice right after Japanese, but he thought he could as well study the basis and the main influence on the language before starting with Swedish.

Languages were a wonderful invention, very interesting to learn, a tiny bit challenging, just like learning how to use a computer or build a gun from the scrap.

"It is shining, and its light comes from his heart. If it isn't a soul, what then?", Q turned his head to the other angel, his wings fluttering in irritation.

Hers, larger than his would ever be, dark grey, with a span wider than every human room was, strong enough to carry several humans at once and with a beauty known across the whole world, pictures of her in male form painted on the walls, her stories told in tale after tale.

Q still didn't know why he was the one she chose as double-oh-seven's new guardian angel, nor why she trained him on her own.

Everyone else was down there already, working, slowly entering their mark's life and making sure they did the best they could. There was something about James Bond, however, something which made the angel's wings flutter lightly, causing a gust of wind to push away a bit of fog around them.

M made a gesture with her hand, fire burning in front of his eyes, screams echoing in his head. The picture faded again, and they were on earth, in her office.

Her wings still were there, but she had them folded behind her back, and he drew his own in to copy her body posture. She nodded, her version of a praise.

"James Bond is a broken man, Q, no one you could ever fix. I tried, I failed, I gave up. The pieces of his soul, of his beautiful light soul, are all over the world, part of it on the bottom of a lake, some of it broken. He ripped half of it out on his own."

Q titled his head, rubbing his palms together. "You were his guardian his whole life, M, why not anymore?"

The elder angel gave a sigh, standing up and turning around to face London, a shadow falling onto her face, wrinkled and so painfully human, Q wanted to reach out and make it better. Whatever had caused her to fall apart, her vessle and her grace, everything so...

Haunted.

Suffering.

It was hard to tell what it was, but something told him she was suffering just like James Bond, hiding in a house at the beach, drinking, fucking, doing his best to drown the memories of what had happened.

Q wasn't his guardian yet, and while he would be soon enough, he didn't know why he cared. It was the best to remain professional, and to keep his distance. Normally he would be a shadow, and not an actual person in the mark's life, but M had chosen this as her life, and he would follow her steps.

She was the light of the sun, and he the moon following her earth, keeping it safe and secure.

"This man has gone through so much", M continued instead of answering his question, her wings unfolding, spreading to their full width, "Yet he keeps on going."

"Loyality", Q immediately said, "A patriotic bastard at the bottom of his heart, clinging onto the thought of a noble England like it is the only thing keeping him from going insane."

M shook her head. Q frowned.

"He knows England isn't noble. He has seen too much for a human, more than a human soul could ever manage to process and accept, to leave behind. This man, Q, isn't one of the agents you have seen and watched so far. He is more, and the more he takes the less he becomes."

The young angel nodded and made a mental note to that, resting his hands on the armrests of his chair. It was comfortable, for a human one, his vessel at least considered it as decent enough. A strange choice of words.

"He'll drive you insane."

M's voice was fond, almost. Her usual cold intonation gone, and her grace shining brightly. Q couldn't see her face, but he thought that she might be smiling, or at least as close to this display of affection as she was capable of.

Curiously, Q leant forward to listen.

"He is an arse, a prick and the most suicidal idiot I have ever seen. He'll drive you up the wall and whenever you see another angel guarding an agent you pass, you'll envy them." M paused. "But on the other hand you'll pity them, because they never got to see the man James Bond is."

"He's an agent", Q started, titling his head, "A killer."

"He's human."

"Arrogant."

"Broken."

"Heartless."

"Caring."

Q raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

She turned around to him, looking at him through her intense, hard eyes. "Caring. He cares too much, and drowns his pity and guilt in alcohol."

"Alcoholic." Q nodded. "Abusive of medicamentation, and unable to form a relationship."

"That's not true." M shook her head. "It only takes him longer. Have you been assigned to a human before?"

"No." Q shook his head, and his dark-brown wings fluttered, spreading for a moment to work against his sore muscles.

"He is smart, intelligent, and arrogant, yes, but he is a fighter. A survivor. Destiny spits into his face and he stands up, pushes destiny into its face and shoots through its skull."

Q had to smile, toying with a button on his shirt. The fabric was soft, white, clean. It reminded him of the wings of the higher angels, the ones in charge. Sometimes they were black, but it depended on the person.

He had seen blue wings before, or yellow, and the angels had have blue and yellow hair.

"He fights. I'm afraid in the end, he won't win, and he'll fall."

There was something palpable in the air, some kind of knowledge Q didn't possess, cold and hot at the same time. A shiver ran down his spine and he folded his wings behind his back, tempted to curl the primaries around himself for protection.

Instead, practising his persona, he pushed his glasses up his nose, face blank. "You know something, don't you? Is it how you plan on leaving him? To fall?"

For a moment, M smiled and shook her head, lifting her hand to make a swiping gesture with it. The office faded, they were back where they had started, right above Bond, watching him.

Q stared at the human in fascination, Bond's piercing blue eyes fixed on the blue ocean.

And his soul, shining bright in the darkness of the night, pieces missing, wounds and scars covering it, making it appear as if it was falling apart.

He was determined to hold him together, to make him work.

"Not I will fall, Q", M interrupted his thoughts, looking at Bond with a cold face, "Skyfall is where we start, young chick, days will be dark."

Q only stared at her, trying to make sense of her words.

_After Skyfall, he understood. He wished he didn't._


	201. Chapter 201

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I love love love your writing! I check all the time to see if there's anything new. You're a saint for filling all these prompts. If you're still taking them, I was wondering if you could write one where James finds out, after he and Q get together, that Q and Eve used to have a "thing", like friends with benefits or something? I wonder what James would think about that..."
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> “What about 00Q established relationship fic where Bond finds out that Q and Eve have slept together before?”

"Not a virgin then", James commented as he collapsed onto the bed next to Q, sticky, sweaty, sated and exhausted, his heart racing rapidly in his chest.

Q patted at his shoulder to make him shut up, too tired to even care. It was an endearing sight, too cute. He would never say that out aloud, or Q would have his head, push him against the wall and rip his throat out with an explosive pen.

He had one, he was certain. James had seen the plans for the pen, and if Q wasn't willing to give him one but another agent, James was sure he would find a way to punish his little Quartermaster. 

It had been their first time together, but not Q's first. James was curious, at best, because his Quartermaster wasn't known to be social nor sexually active, at least that was what Eve had told him with a smirk an something dangerous shining in her eyes.

"What gave you the impression that I am?", Q asked, giving a yawn, almost like a sleepy cat torn between sprawling out over James or curling into his side, so he tangled their legs together and threw an arm over James' chest, face burried in the elder's neck.

James grinned, pulling him closer. "Cheeky little nerd with glasses and a hatred towards the general population and every single human being until they have prooven themselves worthy your attention." He kissed Q's head, inhaling his scent. "And affection, of course."

The younger man mumbled something and James patted his shoulder curiously. "Care to say that again?"

Q sat up, the warmth immediately missed by James who tried to force him back down. At Q's glare he stopped, hands falling onto the pillow in a defensive motion, a spark of amusement in James' eyes.

"I'm not the virgin you can turn dirty, James, sorry to destroy your hopes on that." James opened his mouth to protest, Q glared. "No. Shouldn't you be used to partners with almost as much experience as you, judging from the women you sleep with for missions?"

"That hurt, Q." James pressed a hand against his chest like he had been hit there, right above his heart. "I have never been one to care much about how many people my bed partners have slept with before, as long as they do not moan out another name."

Q had to smirk, but shook his head regardless. "You shouldn't walk around telling people your real name, one day it might turn out to be the gravest mistake you ever made."

"Oh, they die almost immediately after I woke up next to them, or a short amount of time later", James leant back, watching his lover's skin glow in the light of the moon falling through the tiny window Q's bedroom had, all messy - organised, Q had insisted - and chaotic, a contrast to Q's way of thinking. "A funny story to tell?"

"About?"

"Sexual encounters." Q looked at him with an 'Are you serious?'-expression. "Why not? You know almost everything about mine. And I'm curious about your choice of partners."

Q sighed. "I lost my virginity to a guy from college, nice man, committed a crime a few years after we met." Q gave James a blank expression, shrugging. "We lost contact."

"Naturally", James commented, keeping his face free of any emotional judging, or amusement.

Q nodded. "Naturally. My next sexual encounter was shortly after I began working for MI6, a nice woman, a bit too enthusiastic in everything she does, but very dominant in bed."

James didn't say that Q seemed to like being dominated in bed, which he could tell from the way Q had screamed out his name as he came, and had immediately taken the spot of the bottom before James could even ask. He had nothing against it, how could he?

He preferred to be on top anyway, but the description made a bell ring, and made him sit up too. "Not so gay as you make everyone think?"

The younger rolled his eyes at that, about to slip out off bed but James held him back. "Bii. Just like you, my dear secret agent, or else we wouldn't be here right now. I prefer the company of men, but she was very persistant and I didn't regret it."

"Do I know her if she works for MI6?"

It wasn't jealousy which made him speak, only purely innocent curiosity everyone would have in this situation. A woman who had sex with _his_ Q and who he might or might not know personally. Who wouldn't ask?

"Eve."

James frowned. "What about her?"

Q huffed. "Normally your deduction skills are impressive, but right now I'm disappointed." He paused for the beat of an heart, or maybe two. "I slept with Eve, for a while. A few times after I met her, a tiny pause, and we stopped trying this relationship-thing people seemed to be so fond of yet it didn't work for us. So we became-"

"Fucking pals?", James offered, titling his head.

"Friends with benefits, that's the modern term. Sounds less judging, and more positive." Q grimaced. "At least something must be positive in an agent's life, don't you think?"

James blinked once or twice, trying to process the information. His Q had slept with Moneypenny, they had have a weird kind of relationship, and still had contact. There was the chance that she still was interested or that he was, and it made jealousy burn hot in James' chest, hot enough to make him grip Q and pull him back into his arms, embrace strong, arms wrapped around the younger man's torso.

"Are there any feelings left between you and her, or is there a chance she still is interested in you?"

Q break out laughing, his body shaking. "Oh god no. She has a boyfriend and I am with you." Q chuckled. "Oh god, that's gold."

He reached out to his phone, typing something. James tried to read it, but Q didn't let him.

"Whom are you writing?"

"Eve. She has to know this."

James groaned, burying his face in Q's hair.

Wonderful.


	202. Chapter 202

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Ohh the Supernatural gif set is cool. Would you write a fic for it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Based on[this](http://shipimpala.tumblr.com/post/43904187951/00q-au-spn-au-bond-is-a-hunter-q-is-his) photoset by the awesome shipimpala._

James returned with so many wounds it was nearly impossible to count them.

There was a bullet wound on his side, blood soaking the shirt red, fabric torn into pieces. There still was a tiny bit of his jacket left, hardly noticeable yet Q supposed it had to count as something.

James' gun was missing, his knife was still there. It was an angel blade, capable of killing nearly every creature in existance, yet it hadn't been able to protect James from whatever had attacked him.

Vampire? Werewolf? Demon? Whatever it had been, Q could sense it and he could feel it, see its spirit written across James' body in the physical form of scars and bruises, all visible to the human eye, and even more to Q's.

It was the painful, most obvious sign that he had failed to protect his human and keep him away from any kind of danger, and the visible sign that Q had failed as an angel in total.

He rushed over to the hunter's side just as James' legs gave in, grimacing in pain and coughing up blood, spilling onto Q's shirt and the carpet of their hotel room. Securely, Q lifted James into his arms, despise the hunter's protests of not treating him like a woman or damsel in distress.

Q said nothing and just put James onto the bed, ripping his shirt off.

Buttons flew everywhere onto the ground, quickly followed by what was left of the shirt and the jacket, James' tie looking grotesquely shred, almost as if by canine teeth.

It smelled of acid, strangely, which made Q worry for his human's health and sake.

James' trousers didn't seem to want to get off, and he had to fight against the belt before he pulled them down, searching for injuries on his legs, but it seemed that his attacker had only attacked his chest, torso and neck, and nothing else.

Q's fingers brushed over the mark of fangs on James' neck, frowning deeply.

"Are you finished staring or are you trying to count the teeth?", James hissed at the touch, trying to squirm away but Q held him in place, using a hand to pin him down into the mattress, "Werewolves. At least four or five, but I lost count after they all leapt at me at once."

"Are they dead?", Q asked, rubbing his palms together.

James nodded, closing his eyes in the moment pain flashed over his face. He turned on his side and threw up enough blood to fill a bag or more, all red and disgusting, soaking the carpet.

Q let out a long sigh, reached out and put two fingers against James' temple.

The bruises and wounds disappeared within the blink of an eye. What had been shred flesh with bones and muscles visible underneath now was perfectly smooth and unmarked, except for the scars James had collected in his years before they had met.

So many scars on human skin, almost like a painting, each telling a story Q knew, had witnessed and watched, unable to do anything against it.

The marks of bullet wounds, all like spots on a map, pointing out the weak spots in an armour. Some scars caused by knives, pink or almost white thin lines on tanned skin. Q saw the scars caused by werewolves, demons, saw bones which had never properly healt.

He saw the runes he wrote onto James' ribs, shortly after he got James' trust and managed to convince him that it was the wisest thing to do. The angels weren't hunting him, but Q didn't trust his brothers and sisters, and he would never make the mistake to underestimate any of them.

Officially, he was a fallen angel. Inoffically he had betrayed heaven and chose to spend his life with a human, watch him fade away and turn into ashes with the breath of time blowing him away. Q would watch him turn old, watch his hair turn from blonde into silvery grey, and he would watch the wrinkles appear, scars go, all in the matter of a few decades.

A lifetime for a human being, a blink for Q, the beat of an heart.

"Better?"

James grunted and rolled on his side, putting a hand over his eyes to shield them from the light of the rising sun. Q stood up and went over to pull the blinders down, James' thanks another grunt, less painful.

He looked so vulnerable laying there like that, his skin paler than usual and his muscles tense. Q couldn't imagine the pain he went through - couldn't feel pain himself, didn't know how it was to live in the fear of being shot and killed - and it hurt to see him like that.

It hurt Q to an amount he didn't understand and made him gulp, gripping the bottle of whiskey far too tightly, nearly making it break apart.

With all his power, all his grace and might, he couldn't keep his hunter from pain. He should have been there, or should have felt his pain and been there to protect him, but he hadn't.

He had failed.

It was an ugly feeling he wasn't used to, but feeling in general was something new, like a child taking its first steps only to fall down, and bruise. It was like learning to talk and breathe, like studying one's mistakes and looking back onto a span of mistakes, of failing and getting up only to fail again.

Emotions were a tricky, wonderful thing he had envied the humans for so long for, but now, facing his own guilt and shame, he wanted to take it all back. His praying for emotions, for a tiny piece of humanity which he would have secured and saved, cherished and loved.

He had been granted emotions, and a human company, and he was thankful, so incredibly thankful, yet he found himself looking back and regretting.

There wasn't a button to turn it off.

He couldn't ignore it and maybe he'd go mad with it. If he could do that, he wasn't entirely sure, how did going mad feel? James was sane, in Q's definition of sanity, so he couldn't ask him, nor could he ask anyone else because he didn't know anyone else.

M would have known, maybe, but she was dead. The hunter had died in James' arms with her blood soaking his suit, and with her eyes falling closed. Q had been there. James didn't know it but he had been there, and he had watched, had cried with James and he had hugged him.

James would never know. Q wouldn't tell him, M couldn't because she was dead, and she had only seen him in the moment of passing heaven's gates, for the brief moment she had been in between the worlds.

She had smiled, maybe. It was hard to judge when a person never smiled, and it could have been faked, or a grimace of pain.

His people skills were a bit rusty.

"Love?", James asked in exhaustion, voice barely above a whisper but Q could hear his emotional distress, see it in his face.

Looking up from the almost empty bottle, his gaze found James', blue meeting green, tired meeting guilty.

Q walked over to James and sat down onto the bed next to him, reaching out to put a hand on James' shoulder to gently push him back onto the bed again. He ran a hand through his short blonde hair, trying to sooth him and take the pain away. A bit of grace, one touch, and James relaxed again, tension leaking out of his body.

"Now sleep, my hunter, I'll take care of you", he mumbled, kissing James' forehead.

The hunter's eyes fell closed, words dying on his lips as he fell asleep, and Q put his hand on the biggest scar amongst them all, caressing the redened, scarred flesh softly.

He spread his fingers, his hand perfectly fitting the print he had left months ago.

Resurrection, in its most literal sense, a man destined to die saved by the grace of an angel, pulled out of the depth of hell.

Q couldn't regret his decision, looking down onto the human sleeping in their bed, chest rising and sinking. He couldn't be arsed to.

He stood up and went to James' uninjured side, curling into him, arms wrapped around his own slender frame - his vessel's body. Q closed his eyes, trying to find some rest.


	203. Chapter 203

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nothing-but-color asked: "No idea if you're still taking prompts, but if you are, can I get some more vampire!fic, but with Bond as the vampire this time? And Q as a human? And preferably some vampire!Bond nomming on Q's lovely neck? Please? And thanks!"

“You're tickling me”, Q mumbled, hitting James’ hand as it tried to wander down lower than his hip bones.

The other gave a low chuckle and did it again, blowing air on Q’s pulse point, nosing down it to his throat and adam’s apple, on which he blew a kiss.

Q blinked once or twice, looking down at him as there was the lightest scrape of sharp teeth over his skin. Not breaking, nor hurting or doing any damage, but it was enough in his eyes and made Q breathe out nervously.

This was his first time. He didn’t know what to expect nor how it would feel, or why he had agreed to do this the first place, but he had little choice now that they were about to do it.

Not having sex, they had gone past that point in their weird, dysfunctional relationship very early.

In fact, that had been how they had started. With sex, heated kisses, moans and cries, fingers scratching over skin and James driving Q mad. He had managed to do what no one had done before, making Q loose control and like it, even enjoy it and want to do it again.

There was something about James which shouldn’t be real, and from the very beginning on he had known why, but not accepted it. How could he? It wasn’t logical. It shouldn’t be real and yet it was.

M had told him, but he hadn’t believed her, obviously. He would like to see the person who accepted and believed it immediately without laughing or backing off slowly, not to keen on conversating with a mental-ward patient on the run.

One flash of fangs, a sparkle of eyes so blue it was shocking, later, and Q knew that he had been wrong. So stupidly and embarrassingly wrong.

“I can always go on the hunt outside, if you want”, James mumbled against Q’s pulse point, probably knowing which effect he would cause

The light increase of the rhythm, Q’s heart racing, nervosity making him squirm over and over again. The bed seemed too uncomfortable, out of a sudden, far too hard and in the next moment far too soft.

This was stupid. It would get him killed. Trust was the basis of a relationship, of every relationship as weird as it might be, yet he wasn’t sure if he trusted James with his life and with _that_.

“Some centuries ago, vampires took mates”, James said quietly, either ignoring Q’s silence or not being too surprised by it. His voice was calming, a bit comforting even. “They were humans, and while some vampires took more than one mate at a time, most stuck to one. A tiny human being, a blink of an eye, capable of turning into a vampire’s worst nightmare.”

“Why?”, Q asked, breathing out softly.

“They became attached. The vampires I mean.” James gave a low chuckle. “They got used to the blood of their mate and couldn’t drink anything else, no other blood as sweet and delicious as the mate’s. Humans fade away. They grow old and die, and then the vampire dies too.”

Now that was confusing and Q made a gesture with his hand as if to convince James to keep on talking. His nervosity was forgotten, and his curiosity woken up. He wanted to know. 

It would certainly affect him.

“The vampire can’t drink any other blood, and we need it to survive. The human dies, what do you think happens?”

“There is no blood left you could drink.”

James nodded. “We could drink another human’s blood, but it would be disgusting. It would be like swallowing acid, or sipping on chemicals. Burning in the throat, and so…” He shivered. “Wrong. The vampire could, but on the other hand he couldn’t.”

Q tried to sit up but James pushed him down again, gently but firmly. “Are you saying that you want to take me as your mate, and that you will die once I do?”

James nodded. “That’s the plan, yes.” He smirked. “I knew you’d catch up on it.”

“But… I’ll die one day and then you’ll die. How can you honestly want something like that?”

The agent shrugged, kissing Q’s pulse point again. The younger man gave a whimper as he felt fangs, poking against his skin. James was testing him, that bastard.

This idiotic, charming bastard.

“I never wanted to”, James admitted, voice gone deeper by an octave, “I never wanted to become attached to someone, and only once I considered it. She…” He trailed off, his glance distant as he looked up into Q’s eyes again. “She died before I could. Now I have you and I don’t want to make the mistake of waiting for too long. People I associate with usually die.”

The comment was on Q’s tongue already, but he swallowed it down. He wet his lips and hesitated, before laying his head back and offering his throat to the agent to bite into.

“Are you sure?”, James asked, worry in his eyes.

Q nodded. “Just get through with it, you idiot.”

James grinned and bared his teeth, fangs white and perfectly clean as he pushed them into Q’s neck, breaking his skin.

Q moaned and his eyes went wide, fingers digging into James’ shoulders. He didn’t know how it felt like, he wasn’t sure if it hurt, was pleasant or painful. It burnt, that was the first thing he noticed.

There was something wet running down his neck, blood he figured. Blood would make sense, actually, since he felt James moan against his skin. His grip tightened around Q’s waist, pulling him closer.

It was quite pleasant, after the first moment of pain. He felt James suck softly and it wasn’t that different from the times James had left hickeys on his skin, only that it was a timy bit disturbing to know that he was sucking out Q’s blood.

Slowly, but steadily, and the more he drank the weaker Q felt. He actually was sure that he would fall asleep would James suck longer, but as if James could read his mind he drew away, looking into Q’s eyes with his own lust-blown ones.

A bit of blood ran down his lips over his chin, leaving a trail of red behind.

James licked over his lips and gave a low growl, reaching a hand up to brush some wisps of hair out of Q’s face. Covering the wound on Q’s neck for a moment only to lift his hand to his mouth, licking the new blood off his fingers and palms.

“James…”, Q began almost shyly, whispering because he wasn’t capable of more at the moment. He felt so weak, so tired…

James hummed and lowered his head again to lick over Q’s neck, drawing a quiet moan from the younger man. A spark of arousal heated up in his lower belly, and he pushed his hips up as James’ fingers brushed the bulge in his trousers.

“So getting bitten turns you on?”, James asked with a husky voice, chuckling at Q’s whine of desperation. “Anything else you want to tell me now that I have you here like that?”

Q mumbled something and curled against James’ side, just too tired to care about anything. James stroked his hair, nails scraping along his scalp. The noise Q made was like a purr, coming from thr depth of his throat.

“Sleep now, my love”, James whispered softly, turning Q’s head gently. He still was bleeding, the scent of his blood rising into James’ nose, making his nostrils flare.

The vampire inhaled deeply before he licked over the wound, watching it heal slowly, skin growing back together, blood flow stopped. Instead of a wound, there were two marks on Q’s skin, two dots.

James smiled, before he closed his eyes, content to listen to his mate’s breath and heartbeat.

Q wasn’t his mate yet, one bite wasn’t enough. Scent-marking, regular biting, it would take some time, but James had all time of the world, and soon Q would have it too.


	204. Chapter 204

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> losttoysintheattic asked: "<3 I love your Omegaverse/Shifterverse piece, and if you ever feel like continuing it I'd do cartwheels of joy and elation. ((Hmm, this convo seems familiar. I wonder if we've had it once before.))"
> 
> _**and** _
> 
> „Please continue the one with PTSD!q please"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> [Part one](http://iamnotoneofthem.tumblr.com/post/43818482532/hello-if-youre-still-taking-prompts-for-your-wondrous)

Everything got better, after a while. Or at least people said that it did, but James wasn’t sure about it. Because if everything was supposed to get better, then why did Q still react to him as if he was afraid?

Afraid of his own Alpha, terrified at the thought of being touched.

James still did not know why. Q refused to talk about it, left the room when asked, shouted at James whenever he tried to insist on a conversation.

Regardless of how often James showed Q that he loved him, that he could never hurt him or do whatever those bastards of his past had done, Q seemed to be unable to trust him. And while James tried to convince himself that he wasn’t hurt, nor getting desperate being so close, returning from a mission to find the scent of Q’s heat lingering in the air and not being able to do anything, he knew that he was.

Hurt.

It was an atrocious, frightful, horrifying and ugly feeling, creeping up at James in the night when he slept on the couch and Q in their bed, the door locked and secured with so many protective mechanism that it almost was ridiculous.

But then it was Q, and James could never insult Q by calling his behaviour ludicrous or anything alike.

Getting up from the couch, James knocked on the door of their bedroom, waiting for the almost inaudible _click_ made by the locks as Q opened the door. The younger man looked sleepy, hair a messy mop on his head, James’ shirt far too big on his slender frame.

“Mmh?”, Q asked, blinking the fatigue away.

“I forgot my pillow inside”, James responded, moving into the room as Q stepped backwards, holding the door and watching every single step the agent took.

The pillow lay on the ground, where James had forgotten it earlier. He had have the day off, just being back from a mission which had left him exhausted, tired and exhausted beyond care, and he had just fallen asleep in the bed with Q’s scent rising into his nose, making his nostrils flare and his cock twitch.

He held himself under control.

Every time he held himself under control, and he could imagine Q underneath him, moaning softly as James cherished his body, but he would never make a move on him.

It wouldn’t end well, and he didn’t want to ruin the only chance to have a functioning, maybe even permanent relationship. They weren’t mated – Q could just leave, turn around and never come back, get a new mate or stay unbounded for the rest of his life.

But he stayed. And that counted for James, even when it wasn’t much in another person’s view.

An Alpha and an Omega living together, both not bonded to the other yet together in an almost Beta-ish way. It was one of the most discussed topics at MI6, and everyone seemed to have an opinion.

James’ scent on Q’s body, his shirt and the cologne, kept everyone away. They held hands when entering MI6, and James picked Q up in the evening with a hand on the small of his back, but they still talked. They talked and talked and it made Q uncomfortable, but James couldn’t do anything against it.

Baby steps, one after one, slowly getting Q to trust him. 

“I didn’t ask how work was today”, James started, seeing how Q sat down on the bed again, one hand holding the blanket, clinging onto it, his eyes resting on James.

“Tedious”, Q replied, playing with the hem of his shirt, “A minion nearly got our system hacked, and I had a hard time trying to find out what the hell she did. I had to fix what she tried to fix, so to say.”

James gave a low chuckle as he bent down to fetch the pillow, holding it in one hand while the other went through his own short hair. He should maybe cut it soon, it was getting too long.

“Sometimes I wonder how you put up with them.”

Q smiled weakly. He looked so lost on the king-sized bed, vulnerable, small, and it made James want to reach out and hug him, keep him away from any kind of danger or violence, but except for the twitching of his fingers, he didn’t show any of this.

He only walked over to Q, keeping his movements slow and giving the Omega enough time to say stop or make him turn around and leave, and kissed his head, inhaling his scent deeply. “Sleep well, love.”

Q opened his mouth, but closed it immediately again. The flash of something washed over his features, visible to James’ eye for the glimpse of a second it lasted, but it was enough to make him take a few steps backwards and put a bit of distance between them. Something was wrong, and while he didn’t know what it was, he wasn’t going to risk anything.

Q was his priority. The most important person in his life and James would be damned would he cause him any harm, of physical nature or psychological. He understood Q’s demons better than his own, was determined to scare them away and make things okay, but in Q’s time.

No need to rush things, as much as he was keen on getting to the goal as quickly as possible.

He was about to turn around and leave, close the door behind him and get on the uncomfortable couch, trying to at least sleep for five hours without sitting in front of Q’s door, listening for any signs of distress or panic, but Q interrupted him.

“…James?”

Said turned around again, surprised by how Q was looking at him. Eyes wide, almost comically huge. Holding the duvets up to his chest, his hand trembling lightly.

“Yes love?”

Q lowered his glance and cleared his throat, wetting his lips and even chewing on the lower one for a moment, distracting James highly. It was swollen and slightly red, made to be kissed.

“I…”, Q paused, searching for the right words, stuttering as he continued to speak, “I… I know how uncomfortable the couch is, and…the bed is big enough, i-if you want…”

James blinked, completely taken aback by those words. He hadn’t expected them, nor would he ever have imagined Q offering something like that. The agent had thought he would have to gently coax him, get him used to being touched, a slow progress over months, with throwbacks.

Not this. Anything but this.

Being silent for a moment, James finally spoke up again. “Are you sure?”

Q nodded, squirming a bit. “I trust you”, he mumbled, “Just promise that you won’t do anything?”

James approached the bed and nodded, sitting down on the edge. He put the pillow right next to the edge, before laying down next to Q, above the duvets.

“I promise you that I won’t do anything, and that I could never hurt you. You can trust me.”

The Omega nodded again and lifted the duvets for James to get under, curling up once they both were surrounded by its warmth.

Carefully James held his arms open, watching Q fight an inner war, one side winning after a few moments because he moved closer, resting his head on James’ chest. The Alpha loosely wrapped his arms around Q, light enough for the Omega to get out as soon as he would want to.

“Good night, James”, Q mumbled, his eyes falling closed.

“Good night, love.”

Neither of them slept much that night.

Q stayed awake for at least three more hours until he was sure that James wouldn’t do anything before he doze off, and James stared at the ceiling, counting Q’s heartbeat.


	205. Chapter 205

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: prompt : "hi. all i want is q and james eat their wedding cake. thank you"

"It's too sweet."

Q hit James' side, then scowled. "Too sweet is a word combination which doesn't exist. Nothing can ever be too sweet, only not sweet enough."

James huffed and lifted his hand, twined with Q's left since the younger man was sitting on his right side. Eve was opposite of them, beautiful in her light blue dress, eyes still shining wet from the tears she had shed over the whole ceremony.

It hadn't been something big, not even remotely close to the weddings aired on television. With the bride wrapped in white fabric, a long veil being held up by her bridesmaids. And the groom, his suit not as expensive as James' own, with tears in his eyes the moment he saw his soon-to-be wife walking up to him, her smile the most sappy thing James had ever seen.

In the time between his proposal and today, Eve had made him watch plenty of videos to show him how his wedding would _not_ be. She showed him mistakes he wasn't allowed to make or she'd ripp his head off, causing James to wonder about why he hadn't just asked Q to change their files and that was it.

They could have avoided this all, but neither Eve, nor Tanner or anyone else they were close to let them.

 _You will have the best marriage MI6 has ever seen, and I'll be damned would I let either of you mess with my plans_ , Eve had said, her expression the most serious James had ever seen, _I still owe you, Bond._

And now they were here.

James pressed a kiss to Q's knuckles, eying the ring with a light smile ghosting over his expression. Q looked up from his plate, their eyes met and both of them couldn't help but smile at the other.

"I told you that you'd look lovely in a suit, Mister Bond", James said quietly so no one would hear him, everyone engrossed in the conversations they held.

Not a big party, but they hadn't invited many people, nor did either of them mind it. Eve was here, M, Tanner, Q's favourite minions and a few double-oh-agents who weren't busy shooting people and saving the country.

James was tired of parties, of suits and dresses, of expensive alcohol and violins playing in the background. This was quiet, intimate, and he found himself smiling genuinely instead of his usual counterfeit one.

"Bill threated to cut our budget if I show up in a cardigan", Q mumbled and leant over to kiss James' cheek, a hand running down his jacket, "Commander Bond." He chuckled. "Remind me of making you wear that uniform more often."

The agent gave a smirk. "Does it leave you all hot and bothered, Q?"

"No", Q bit into the cake again, moaning happily around the spoon, "How can you not like this cake, it's beautiful."

James raised an eyebrow. "Beautiful? That's not a compliment you should give a cake, love."

Q had this smug, amused grin on his features, and James had the feeling he was about to roll his eyes. It was this feeling in his gut, a presentiment rushing through his veins up to his brain.

He waited, and counted to three, knowing Q had something for drama and almost theatre-esque pauses before he let his lines out.

"Are you trying to say that this beautiful, handsome and utterly sexy piece of cake doesn't deserve to be told just how wonderful it is?"

Q gave a laughter, making Eve raise an eyebrow, chuckling along. Her company, a young man with brown-ish skin and a bright grin working in MI6's medical branch as a doctor, turned his head to look at her and offered her a piece of cake, easily distracting her from the freshly married couple again.

"Do I need to be jealous of a cake?", James asked, looking at the offending piece of sugar and cream, trying to calculate how many pieces he'd have to eat to end up with tooth decay. Three, maybe four, but he hoped Q would keep his sugar addiction under control.

Their honeymoon was short enough already, due to work, he didn't need it to be interrupted by caries. Or a stomach ache, depending on how much Q could force down.

"Oh maybe", Q hummed, taking another piece, his second, "This cake really **is** delicious."

Letting out a long breath, James corrected a medal on his chest, before putting a tiny bit of cake onto his fork, offering it to Q. "And I am not?"

Q had to chuckle. "Not as delicious as this cake, James. You haven't even tried much."

He pointed at the not even half-eaten piece laying on James' plate, abandoned and, most likely, crying. Q took pity in it and offered some to James, their hands circling until they were twined.

"What do I have to do to convince you of the disaster this cake is?" James leant a bit backwards, trying to avoid the cake like it was poisoned. "Do I have to get on my knees again?"

"Don't be absurd. You swallowed acid, James, you can eat this cake and realise how good it is."

James sighed. "Why don't you just marry this cake and enjoy the time until it's rotten?"

Q tried to look insulted, but both knew this was gentle teasing, nothing more. It was good that no one was listening, or else they would wonder about what has been put into this cake.

"You hurt me, Mister Bond." Q moved the fork forwards, pushing the cake against James' lips impatiently.

Finally, the agent parted them and Q fed him the cake, watching with an intense gaze as James chewed and swallowed.

"Well?"

James grimaced. "Why did I let you choose the cake is beyond my knowledge and I find myself regretting it." Q's expression fell and he glared. James chuckled. "I'm joking, love, it's tasty."

Q raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Delicious."

"And?"

James let out a suffering and long breath, closing his eyes for a moment. What had he done to deserve this. "And it is absolutely handsome and sexy, and I feel jealous and wonder about whether I'll find you in our bed cheating on me with cake or not."

Q began to laugh loudly, making M and Tanner turn to look at him in confusion, tears shining in Q's eyes as he just couldn't stop. James leant back, looking at Eve innocently.

"You don't have to worry, James", he breathed out eventually, panting, "If I eat cake in bed then only with you."

"How pervert of you, Q."

Q chuckled. "Oh well, that depends on how you see it."

James lifted his fork to Q's lips, and the younger man ate a bite, winking.


	206. Chapter 206

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "oh my god you need to write pirate!ooq /please/"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Based on the photosets[ of shipimpala.](http://shipimpala.tumblr.com/tagged/pirates%2100q)_
> 
> [Link to most of the terms I used](http://www.thepiratesrealm.com/pirate%20talk.html)

"Jolly Roger up?"

"Aye sir!"

"What do eat today?"

The man paused for a moment, thinking about it and wetting his lips, showing off almost black teeth. "Junk, captain."

James pursed his lips, putting on his coat and leaving the buttons open, only putting on a belt to stop his trousers from slipping down. He noticed something was missing and grinned, looking at the man with a sigh. "Again?"

"That or worm castles, captain", the man showed his teeth again, tapping on the wooden doorframe. "Anything else, captain?"

"Where is Q?"

The underling blinked, looking back to the deck where others were walking around, doing their jobs. Belaying the new haul, making sure none of the boxes and barrels could get lost in the ocean underneath their feet. Others still were sleeping, trying to get pretty when it was a lost cause.

Pirates weren't known to be pretty, that wasn't the quality usually associated with them. James was the exception, but then he wasn't stupid enough to run face first into a fight when he could as well shoot the bastards in the head. There was no place for honour on the sea, and not on this ship.

"Taking a caulk, maybe?", he suggested, shrugging, "Haven't seen him since he went after you for a grog."

James ignored his smirk and took his gun, putting it in the holster on his waist. Stolen from the Navy, with the sign of a ship carved into the leather. It was nice, and he was sure the commander didn't mind. Just like he certainly wouldn't mind James wearing his coat and his medals with mocking pride.

"Dismissed."

Nodding, the underling went away and disappeared, heading to the head. James rolled his shoulders, ran a hand through his hair and then stepped outside on the upper deck, inhaling deeply.

He tasted salt and the sun on his tongue, rising into his nose and clouding his mind. The water was calm, only a few waves were hitting the ship and none of them were enough to make the ground move like it normally would be the case. It was almost too calm, hardly a breeze making their sails flatter.

Seemed like they were caught in a calm period, and were doomed to chug and hope for a little storm, or at least a bit of wind to move. They had a navy ship breathing down their neck and a Italian ship to catch, since they had been informed about tons of gold and food stored.

Would be a nice catch, and James was determined to get it.

Passing the underlings working on the ship, sealing the deck's gaps with oakum and tar, he looked around and checked everything, counting the numbers of men, going down again to control their monkies and other canons. There was no sign of Q, and James checked his room and found it empty.

Q hadn't been in there for a long time, since he had moved into James' room a while ago. It had been a spontaneous thing, an action James couldn't regret yet he wondered why he had even offered Q to stay with him, and therefore make their relationship official.

No one dared to insult the captain, since no one wanted to either get the death spot or dance the Hempen Jig, but he knew about the rumours spreading out like a bloody fire, and he made sure to punish those being too stupid and getting caught.

"Have you seen Q?", he asked the closest underling currently scrubbing the planks with water they had taken from the ocean.

"Fo'c's'le, captain."

James nodded and went up to the forwardmost part of the ship, right in front of the bowsprit.

He could see Q's slender body from afar, James' shirt far too big on him, having slipped down his left shoulder and his white, soft skin exposed. James went up behind him and kissed his neck, wrapping an arm around the sailing master's waist. He pulled him close, pressing another kiss onto the skin right underneath Q's ear.

"You got up before me, my dear, you know that I don't like that", he mumbled, enjoying the way Q shivered at the feeling of James' breath brushing over his skin. "Someone could have kidnapped you."

Q huffed. "You mean like you kidnapped me beforehand, captain?"

There was something about the way Q said 'captain', with a lack of respect James normally would punish, but strangely found amusing when it came to Q. The younger man was the exception to everything in general, and while James wasn't sure what had made him fall for Q, he was glad that it was him.

"I'd hope that it wouldn't be the exact same situation, since you fell in love with me so easily", James chuckled, "And you stole my heart, sailing master."

Q let out a long breath, laying his head back, leaning into James' embrace. "Easily? You make it sound like I fell down in front of you and begged you to take me."

"Oh but you did, Q", James chuckled, running his hand over Q's shoulders down his side, squeezing his rear gently, "You begged for my cock in your arse and gagged for it, and you were so lovely on your knees..."

He didn't have to see Q's face to know that he was blushing, this adorable shade of pink, faint and light. James gently turned Q's head around and kissed him on the lips, smirking as he tasted alcohol on him.

"Arrack?"

Q nodded. "We found a bottle, and the crew decided to give it to us."

James raised an eyebrow. "So you drank how much?"

"Only a Black Jack."

"Only?"

Q let out a long breath. "I can stand more than you think I do." Q turned around in James' arms, kissing his chin, rubbing his cheek against James' and feeling light stubble. "You should shave again, my captain."

James swirled Q around again and held his arms up, spreading them and holding his own behind him. He kissed Q's cheek, resting his chin on his shoulder.

"Care to help me?", the captain asked quietly, enjoying the feeling of Q's body against his. He let go for a moment, wrapping Q into his coat since he knew how easily his lover freezed.

"If you trust me with a razor on your neck."

"I'd always trust you, my love."

Q turned his head and kissed James' neck, closing his eyes. "Speaking of Jack...", he suddenly said, eyes snapping open again, "Where is he?"

James huffed. "Searching for rum, maybe. What do I care."

"He's part of your crew."

"He is illusional enough to think that **he** is the captain of this ship. He stole it from us once. This isn't acceptable."

The sailing master huffed out some air. "He's not that bad."

"He flirted with you."

"He flirts with everyone."

James put a hand on Q's mouth to silence him, looking at the water ahead of them, trying to imagine how long it would take them to find some ground, to find a place to sell what they had stolen, and spend their gold on food, ammo and more necessary things.

And he wondered about when he could take Q out, show him the city, pay for everything and spoil him the best he could.

The captain rested his head on Q's shoulder, just standing there in silence, listening to his breathing and the sound of waves softly hitting their ship.

They had a good life, better than anyone else's.


	207. Chapter 207

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Hi! I love your writing! If you have the time can you write an AU where Silva is still part of the MI6 and Q is like his adopted son or something? And when Silva finds out that 007 and Q are infatuated with each other he puts James through a series of tests to make sure he would be committed to Q?

"Your next mission is going to take place in Austria, and the target's file and all his information to his schedule for the next three weeks are here..." Q handed the thick file over to the agent, their fingers lingering, James' over Q's caressing the spidery ones softly. "It should be an unproblematic mission, but knowing you it might end in chaos and havoc."

James gave a low chuckle and turned the picture of his mark around, staring into a man's face turned into a grimace by a Siamese smile, teeth white and shining and eyes unforgiving, speaking of years spent reigning in the shadows. It shouldn't be too hard to get rid of him, the agent thought.

"Listening to you one might believe that I'll be the reason for the apocalypse", he mused, lifting his head to look into Q's amused eyes.

"My personal one for sure."

Bond smirked. "Now you make me sound like I'm a bad person, Q." He raised an eyebrow. "Which makes me doubt the sweet nothings you said last evening..."

The faint blush spreading out from Q's nose to his cheeks made James feel smug, and he showed it through an amused grin, reaching out to cup Q's cheek, not caring that half of Q-branch was watching.

He leant forward a bit and pressed a chaste kiss on Q's nose, making a noise of endearment at the huff the younger let out. "Were they all lies in the end, my dear Q?"

Q opened his mouth to reply but his gaze shifted from James' eyes to the door, and he pushed the agent backwards, making James stumble. Turning around, hand ready at his gun, finger laying on the trigger, he lifted his weapon and was about to shoot, but as he saw who it was he was quick in putting it away again, trying to look innocent.

He also was trying to hide his surprise at how close Silva was, and the sceptical expression replacing the permanent smile causing James to blink and take a step backwards.

" _Padre?_ ", Q asked, tilting his head in mild confusion, clearly just as bewildered as the agent. " _¿Qué pasa?_ "

" _Nada, chiquito._ " The blonde man smiled at James and folded his hands behind his back after correcting his white jacket, standing in harsh conflict with his hair, and in contrast with James' suit.

Sometimes he thought the other was doing it on purpose, but they weren't enemies nor was there any reason for Silva to make an opponent out of James.

Except for the fact that he might or might not be dating his son, adopted from what Bond had heard, glimpses of rumours and small-talk, nothing to be taken serious, but interesting regardless.

"I heard I am here for a mission?", Silva continued speaking, either completely oblivious to the interruption of his, or he was trying to act innocent. Either way, it wasn't working.

Q nodded. "You and double-oh-seven-" He threw a meaningful glance in James' direction. "-will both go to Austria and cooperate."

James' smile faded, and his expression fell. "Pardon?"

"I think you understood Q very well, James", Silva smirked, "Or aren't you paying attention to what he says?"

The elder made a clicking-noise with his tongue, humming a melody James didn't know, but made a mental note to look for later.

"I was listening. I just don't see why I would require assistance when the mission is supposed to be unproblematic."

"You are the assistance, James", Q corrected, turning around to his laptop, "The mission requires _padre_ and you to fly to Austria, and while it's his mission to get access to the main computer and insert a virus into their system, it's yours to eleminate the mark and make sure that he won't get into the way of our more important mission."

"Mine", Silva gave a low chuckle, almost like a growl.

James scowled.

"Yes, _papá_ , yours." Q looked at James and shrugged lightly, mouthing something. "The information were sent to your tablet, _padre_ , and the flight goes in seven hours."

Silva leant forward and tapped Q on the shoulder, kissing the Quartermaster's forehead as he turned around. Q raised an eyebrow, but let him. " _Voy a volver lo antes posible._ Lo sé, padre." Q smiled, before looking at James. " _No seas crudo con él, por favor._ "

The other pulled an innocent face, but there was something evil shining in his eyes. " _Prometo._ "

Q looked at him distrustful, but then focused on James, appearing to be a bit concerned. "Bring back everything in one piece", he said. 

What he didn't say was 'Including yourself'.

James nodded and was about to take a step forward, but Silva's glance made him stop and just give a mock salute. "Trust me, Q."

Q smiled weakly. "I'm not stupid enough to make that mistake."

Silva walked to James' side again and threw an arm over the agent's shoulder, grin nearly splitting his face in half. "Let's go, James, we wouldn't want the fun to disappear before we arrive!"

xx  
xx

This mission was anything but funny.

 **Anything** but.

Not only did Silva spy on James, he also pushed women on him nearly all the time they were in the mark's house, attending a party. One after the other, all beautiful with curves, long silky hair and red lips, exotique and with an accent to fall for, flirting with him now and then, asking about his relation to the host the other times.

James didn't know why Silva did it, nor why he was staring at James from across the room as he talked to a black-haired woman, his gaze intense and constant, like a snake's ready to snap and attack.

Politely, James ended the conversation with her and checked the crowd for a familiar face with a Siamese smile, easily spotting the man surrounded by a few guards, and with a woman on his arm.

His eyes found Silva's and he nodded, watching the other agent disappear, carefully following the target through a complex of corridors, all twined and made to get lost.

Killing the man was easy, once James got him seperated from the group, and hiding his corpse was the next step James couldn't get through with because the following second, there was a knock on the door. Cursing, he put the corpse into the closet, locked it and went to answer the door.

The woman kissed him and slipped her hand underneath James' shirt, nails scratching over his skin and scars. Her name was Marina, she said, and she wondered if he would like to feel her lips around his cock, hand slipping lower.

Before Q, he would have let her.

Fucked her into the mattress, lips on hers, making her moan and cry as he played her body like the instrument it was, pressing the right buttons in the correct order to make her come undone.

Now he had Q. They hadn't done anything yet and while James was getting frustrated with the patience required from him when all he wanted to do was bent Q over the desk, he wouldn't.

And part of him was sure this was some kind of sick test Silva put him through, and that he was more than aware of Q's and his emotions.

Definitely a test, he thought as he told her to go, watching her take out a gun and aim for his head, and he didn't like the way it went.

He managed to dodge and got out of the room, surprised at the chaos he found. Silva was running past him, shouting something along the lines of 'Take care of that, would you?'

James turned around to see what he meant with 'that', eyes widening.

For fuck's sake.

He ran to find a spot to hide, not going to face all of the armed guards at once with nothing but his Walter at his hand. He wasn't stupid, and he had made a promise to Q.

"What did you do?!", he shouted in Silva's direction, the only answer he got being a chuckle.

That bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Padre = Father_  
>  _¿Qué pasa? = What's wrong/What happened?_  
>  _Nada, chiquito. = Nothing, boy._?  
>  _Papá = Dad_  
>  _Voy a volver lo antes posible. = I'm going to come back as soon as possible._  
>  _Lo sé, padre. = I know that, father._  
>  _No seas crudo con él, por favor. = Don't be cruel with him, please._  
>  _Prometo. = I promise._


	208. Chapter 208

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Part one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/614175/chapters/1107663)   
>  [Part two](http://iamnotoneofthem.tumblr.com/post/39423141697/can-you-write-more-about-dog-james-and-kitten-q)

Q's tail immediately moved into a vertical position the moment the scent rose into his nose, making him purr contently and jump onto his feet, knocking down the cup of coffee right next to him.

The minion on whose desk he had been sleeping on cursed and got up, trying to avoid getting the hot liquid all over her skirt, but Q couldn't care less and ignored her.

There were more important matters to care about right now, such as James' arrival and return. He had been away for nearly a month, working together with two agents. Searching for bombs hidden beneath the dog's paws, sniffing the ground, risking his life.

India, if Q could recall correctly, or another Asian country. They all sounded the same in the cat's ears, everything confusing and while he could remember the minion's faces and sometimes their names, the differences between China and Japan were too complicated for him.

James wasn't supposed to come down to Q-branch right away, but no one dared to stop the dog when they all knew he could - and would - snap for their fingers would they dare to reach out for him.

Q wasn't surprised by James' presence, nor were any of the minions. One only muttered "Here we go again", to which another one snorted. Most only looked up to see the glimpse of blonde-ish fur leaping at Q, groaning or taking their cups away to safety.

The massive body of the dog collided with Q's and threw him down, pinning the feline underneath the canine, James' tongue licking over Q's belly offered to him, before pushing their noses together.

"What are they doing?", a minion asked, looking at the picture offered curiously.

"Sniffing noses."

"Pardon?"

"Cat thing. Bond adapted it and now does it too." She let out a long sigh. "I swear, would they be humans they'd be making out all day, probably fucking on the next desk."

A few laughed, returning back to work.

Everyone was used to it by now, and while the new ones were confused about how a dog and a cat could be **lovers** of some weird, twisted kind, but it worked. Better than introducing James to a female dog with dark brown fur, piercing green eyes and an attitude alike teasingly flirting, a dog which had died soon after.

Q bumped the front part of his head against James' side, getting back onto his paws, meowing happily. A minion tried to count the amount of times their tails waggled enthusiastically in one minute, but failed.

Too fast, and as James got down to be on eye level with Q, his tail caused a constant thumping on the ground, highly irritating, and loud. Far too loud.

Neither of the animals cared, because it was none of their bloody business if the humans were annoyed or not, and they certainly wouldn't suppress instincts and reactions because of the minions. It wasn't like they needed them for anything, they always forgot to feed Q anyway.

The young cat meowed and purred, rubbing his side against James, circling his legs and wrapping his tail around one of the dog's hind legs. _”I missed you.”_

James huffed out a laughter, sounding like a soft bark. _“Of course you did.”_ He lowered his head, licking over the cat’s back, making him arch his spine and purr contently.

_ “Was the mission successful?” _

The dog nodded, nuzzling Q’s neck and picking him up gently with his teeth. Q held still as James carried him out of the room, patting through the corridors of MI6, everyone getting out of their way.

James was big enough for everyone to notice him, the grumpy old dog barking at everyone who dared to stare or get too close, or bare his teeth out of the same reason. Q, however, was too tiny. A fluffy little cat with big green eyes and black fur, his meowing never loud enough to make people notice him. Without James he probably would have been overran by the agents, underlings and people always occupying the free space in the corridors.

Or he would have died from starvation, because queerly no one in the whole Q-branch was aware of the fact that most cats were lactose intolerant, and how stupid it was to give a cat a bowl of milk and nothing to eat.

It was better than the tea, the dog thought with a snarl as a minion tried to reach out and pet Q, her fingers coming dangerously close to the cat’s forehead. Q always was twitchy and hyperactive after tea, probably because of the sugar they put into it.

James got onto his hind legs and put a front paw against the door to an usually unoccupied office of an agent called 007, who had died a few months ago on a mission in Istanbul, trying to open it with his other. Q whined and helped him, hanging there a bit awkwardly in James’ muzzle.

_”Thank you”_ , James barked politely, putting Q down onto the ground once he closed the door again.

The cat immediately jumped onto a chair and then down on the ground again, making James do a noise similar to a human’s chuckle.

Waggling with his tail James followed the kitten to a nest of pillows, curling around him and throwing a paw over the other’s frame. _”How was everything going while I was gone?”_

_”It was boring. They bought another brand of catnip.”_

James huffed again and licked over Q’s neck, trying to mark him as his. He knew Q was doing the same when he rubbed his cheek against James’ side, his legs or his snout, and if Q could do it, then James was allowed to do the same. Q mewed and turned onto his back, exposing his belly and chest.

As far as James knew it was a sign of trust and comfort, and the way Q opened his mouth without any teeth exposed showed that he was feeling playful.

James licked over his belly, carefully nibbling on the sensitive skin there, making Q purr and waggle with his fluffy tail. The dog sat up and waggled with his own, moving so it was directly in front of Q’s face, teasing him, tempting him.

Q blinked, before leaping at the tail, trying to get it between his paws.

_ “You’ll have to try harder, kitten.” _

The cat hissed and tried again, and again, but James had been trained to have fast reflexes, and both knew Q would never manage.

Eventually, the canine felt a bit of pity and held still, letting Q nibble on his tail, four paws holding it over his middle. It was an endearing, cute sight, and James licked over his head again, before moving his tail away.

_ “I missed you.” _

_ “You already said that, Q.” _

_ “Did you miss me?” _

Jumping on top of James – a bit awkwardly, the dog noticed – he moved to the dog’s neck and began to nibble on his ear, lick and suck, tiny teeth tickling James’ short fur. He huffed and put his paws on his snout, closing his eyes and just enjoying the grooming he got.  


_ “Of course, Q.” _

Q contently purred, keeping on licking over James’ ear.


	209. Chapter 209

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Part one](iamnotoneofthem.tumblr.com/post/43818482532/hello-if-youre-still-taking-prompts-for-your-wondrous)
> 
> [Part two](http://iamnotoneofthem.tumblr.com/post/44323993829)

Re-introducing Q to touch and, more importantly, turned out to be the most frustrating, riling and irritating thing James had ever tried to get through with, and more than once he found himself wondering if his conviction would be enough or if he’d give in.

Not that he wanted to, there was nothing he wanted to avoid doing as much as letting Q go and give up.

But he already felt tired, exhausted, and the constant bickering of his colleagues, the agents and even Q’s underlings was anything but encouraging. The whispering became rumours, the rumours became demons in his head, and when he lay awake at night, he wondered if it was worth it all.

If Q could be helped, if he could learn how to trust again, and if James was the right one for this mission, this unconventional assignment. This wasn’t about shooting people, about surviving, coming back and winning. This wasn’t about using a gun, a knife or deactivate a bomb.

This was about Q, poor, vulnerable Q, and his traumas, and James didn’t know if he could do this.

However, whenever he seemed to doubt, Q came, and made James believe again. Not in himself, he had long ago stopped doing that, but in their relationship.

After the night spent together in Q’s bed, they had been separated for three weeks at a time, James on a mission in France and Q the steady voice in his ear, helping him get through the streets and crowds of Toulouse. James had killed the mark after two days of planning, watching and noting down the target’s schedule.

Breakfast with a different man every morning, before she went to work in a fashion shop, lunch with a new man and dinner with her husband in the evening. She always had left the house at midnight to do what MI6 wanted to see her dead for: Selling weapons, drugs, information.

Now she was dead, and James wounded. Gunshot in the left shoulder, nothing serious, but Q had been worried to the point he had thrown himself on James and his arms around the Alpha’s neck, sobbing into his uninjured shoulder while James had been paralysed, unable to process that Q was hugging him, without coaxing and whispered promises and without any move from James’ side.

The night in medical was spent in silence. Q holding James’ hand and the agent sleeping, Q’s scent embracing him, wrapping itself around his mind and filling it with visions of both of them together, and a child dragging them along in the park. 

Laughter echoing in his head, making him smile in the darkness of the night.

From then on, they had spent every night in bed together, not doing anything, just sleeping. James holding Q to his chest, the omega’s breath ghosting over his chest.

By the time they had been together for several months, Q seemed to try putting effort into their relationship.

He had never been a touchy person, but he was sitting closer and closer next to James on the couch on free days, until one day their shoulders bumped together, and James was about to apologise.

Last time something like that had happened, Q had nearly screamed and begun to cry. He had jumped off the couch and gone into the corner, curling up and begging James not to hurt him. Filled with rage, tension palpable in the air, the Alpha had gone out.

Stormed out, rather.

Because while he had known that it wasn’t the right thing to do, while he knew that he should have tried to calm Q down, help him through his panic attack and make it better, _he couldn’t._ He wasn’t good with emotional things, nor did he know how to calm someone down without touching them. Q had made very clear that he didn’t want James to do that.

Therefore he was afraid of the same reaction, the same feedback and drama he had gone through once before already, as Q’s side bumped into his, but the calm expression on Q’s face made him shut his mouth only seconds after opening it.

The apology died in his mouth, forgotten in his brain.

“Don’t apologise”, Q mumbled almost shyly, gaze laying on the screen of their TV, breathing too quick. James caught up on that, and it made his heart clutch in his chest. “I... wanted to.”

James was silent for a moment, letting out a long breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Words lay on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t know if they were appropriate or not.

So instead of saying anything, he carefully reached out and put an arm around Q’s shoulder, looking at the Omega to gauge his reaction. He expected tension, but found none.

Alternatively, the younger man slowly curled into James’ side, resting a head on James’ shoulder. Tightening his grip slightly, Bond turned his head, kissing the other’s, inhaling his scent deeply.

“Why now?”, he asked quietly, rubbing soothing circles on Q’s shoulder.

“I feel bad.”

James frowned. “What for?”

Q was silent for a moment and sighed, squirming a bit. “For letting you wait that long, I... I wouldn’t be angry would you give up and search for someone easier to be with.”

Bond shook his head and kissed Q’s forehead again, shoving a few wisps of curls out off the Omega’s face. “I don’t want anyone but you. And I’m willing to wait as long as it might take for you to trust me enough.”

His Quartermaster said nothing anymore, content with the silence and the body heat radiating off James’ body. The Alpha closed his eyes, laying his head back, feeling himself smile as Q squirmed closer.

They made progress. He couldn’t ask for more.


	210. Chapter 210

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> „How can one sip hurt?“

Q let out a long breath, inhaling and exhaling deeply, pushing his glasses back up again. „I am using anticonvulsants, James, and the consummation of alcohol can reduce the likelihood of the medication working properly. It may trigger a seizure.”

James huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “ _May_. And it hardly counts as consummation when you drink a glass.”

“A glass is enough.” Q glared. “We both know how I think about alcohol, why do you suddenly insist?”

“Because Q”, James replied, taking a step forwards, “Your hatred towards alcohol is incredibly stupid.”

The Quartermaster’s eyes widened and he took a step backwards, not liking the way the agent looked at him. It triggered bad memories, making Q tense, his teeth gritted. James didn’t seem to notice it, if anything it made his inner animal growl and push further.

“It’s not.”

“It is. Not everyone who drinks is a bad person, and not everyone is abusive.”

Q stared, not believing what James just had said. “Are you even listening to yourself? Are you stupid or anything?”, he nearly shouted, gesticulating wildly, “You know what I went through, you saw the bloody wounds _he_ gave me. And you have nothing better to do then blaming me for my hatred towards alcohol when it was the reason he hurt me?!”

James blinked. “There’s no need to shout, Q.”

“No need to shout? James you just told me that you blame me for what my past boyfriend did!”

“I didn’t-“

“-you fucking did. I swear you make me feel si-“

Q stopped talking, his eyes widening slightly. James blinked at him and took a step forward, about to reach out and ask what was wrong, but suddenly Q’s legs gave in and he lifted a hand to press it against his chest, gasping. 

He blinked rapidly, body giving one obvious, painful twitch James was shocked by, his eyes widening and a ‘Fuck’ leaving his mouth.

In horror he watched how Q’s eyes rolled up into his head, eyelids fluttering and lips smacking together. He was chewing on nothing, or James thought so, but Q suddenly spit something out as another convulsion rushed through his body, and the agent realised he had bitten off the tip of his tongue. The pink flesh lay there on the ground, right next to Q’s head.

His body went stiff, eyes staring up at James in panic, tears rushing into his eyes.

He was trying to talk, but nothing came out but the sounds of someone not being able to control himself, some whining, whispering and then stuttering. Words fell out of Q’s mouth without any coherence, without any sense, nonsense and gibberish. 

Q stiffened for a moment and swallowed down, before he spit onto the ground and tried to take a deep breath, ending up coughing as the tremors cursing through his body got worse and worse, until he was downright shaking, foot stomping on the ground, hands waving and clutching themselves into fists, hitting the ground with a loud thump.

“Q!”, James knelt on Q’s side and tried to hold him still, the young man’s teeth gritted. He shook him, trying to pull him out of this, stop the seizure. “Q!”

Q was sweating in his arms, swallowing and grinding his teeth, heart racing as James took his pulse. He took out his phone, pressing the number for medical, all but screaming into the mobile as a doctor picked up.

“Get here immediately, Q is having a seizure, what do I do?”

He heard shouting in the background and shook Q again, trying to keep him from biting into his tongue again. A bit helplessly, he pushed a finger into Q’s mouth between his teeth and his tongue, ignoring the light pain caused as Q bit down.

“Where are you now double-oh-seven?”, the doctor asked, chaos audible in the background.

“Our living room”, James replied, getting furious, “You have the fucking address, tell me what to do!”

“Roll Q onto his side so if he vomits, he doesn’t choke on it or inhale it. On his left side, that’s the best. Don’t restrain him, move any objects which could injure him away from him.”

James jumped onto his feet and pushed away their couch and a table, knocking over the bottle of wine he had planned on drinking earlier. It soaked the ground and the carpet, turning white into dark red, shards laying too close to Q for James’ liking.

He moved Q a bit to the side and then picked up the phone again. “What now?”

“Is he breathing?”

“With difficulty.”

“Put a pillow under his head in case he hits his head against the floor, loosen his clothes, take away ties, belts, open up the buttons on is shirt. Put a wet cloth on his head and put him in recovery position.”

James got up and went into the bathroom, fetching a wet cloth and a pillow from their bedroom. The phone was on speaker, hushed voices audible, people talking about Q like he wasn’t there. Recovery position was something James knew, so he put Q’s left arm at a right angle to his body, palm facing upwards.

The other across his body and the back of his hand against Q’s cheek, but as Q almost immediately put it down again, James held it there. He lifted the knee and bent Q’s leg, pulling it towards him.

„How long until it stops?“, he asked into the phone, grunting in effort to keep Q still.

„That varies. Just don’t leave him alone, okay? If the seizure doesn’t stop in an hour, call us again. Most of the times it’s not necessary to call the ambulance.”

James hung up with an annoyed grunt, holding Q’s arm and his leg, trying to ignore the pain in his chest caused by watching his lover like this. Knowing it was most likely his fault, that he had caused this.

„I’m sorry, Q”, James mumbled, kissing Q’s forehead, “I’m so sorry...” 

Twenty minutes passed before the tremors stopped and Q’s body went stiff, tears running down his cheeks. He didn’t talk, but neither did James, just sitting there and holding Q close.

He never brought up the subject of alcohol again, too afraid of triggering something like this again.


	211. Chapter 211

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Based on this gifset by shipimpala](http://shipimpala.tumblr.com/post/44708112609/00q-au-q-is-the-prince-of-england-bond-is-his)

There were two places one should always look first when searching for the young prince, one of them being the library, and the other the balcony on top of the Palace, hidden from view and facing the enormous garden.

Two out of three times, he was in the library, but today James found the prince sitting outside watching the sun rise, light and wind playing with his features, making his curls dance and his features appear angelic. Smoke rose from the cigarettes in his hand, spidery fingers curled around it, and despise James' lectures about the dangers Q only raised an eyebrow at him every time, muttering one single word to make Bond shut up.

_"Alcohol."_

It had to be a serious issue if James was the one noticing it, and the end of the world when he chose to mention it.

Q's back was turned to him as James stepped behind him, folding his hands behind his back, having to smile.

There was something incredibly sensual about Q with a cigarette in his hands, lifting it to his pouty, red lips to blow smoke up into the sky. Watching the grey-ish cloud rise up and disappear with his throat at display, laying his head back.

James leant down and took the cigarette out of the prince's hand, chuckling lowly as he flinched nearly violently and turned around. Q tried to glare, but it was not only miserable, but also cute.

He would make a horrible king one day, James thought, because he was everything the Church hated. An Atheist **and** gay.

Beautifully so.

"Good morning my prince", James whispered against Q's neck as he kissed the skin offered, blowing a bit of air onto his adam's apple. Q chuckled, squirming a bit. "Have you slept well?"

The prince lay his head further back, looking into James' eyes with a soft smile spreading out across his sharp features, his eyes sparkling in joy James rarely got to see this early in the morning, and not before Q's first cup of tea.

Speaking of tea, James lifted the cup he had brought up and offered it to the other man, getting a chaste kiss on his chin in return. He settled down next to Q and folded his hands in his lap, playing with the cigarette between his fingers.

"You are a saint", Q said happily, sipping at the tea and humming, "I love you."

James gave a smirk. "I know you do, _sire_." The bodyguard reached out to put an arm around Q's shoulders and pulled him closer, until their shoulders bumped together, and Q could rest his head on James' shoulder.

They were silent for a moment, just watching the sun disappear behind London's clouds, silent and peaceful, nothing like the busy atmosphere usually reigning. Q took away the cigarette again, and James patted at his hand.

"It's unhealthy."

"Alcohol."

James rolled his eyes, poking Q's side. "I'd kindly suggest you to shut your mouth, my dear."

"Do you know who you are talking to?", Q asked, turning his head to glare at the bodyguard again. The elder tickled the younger's side and ran his hands down the slender frame, over the side and under the shirt Q was wearing, feeling smooth and beautiful skin. "Show some respect."

Bond nearly laughed, but kept his face blank, and his hands slipped to Q's hip, gripping his bones firmly. "My apologies, your highness", he purred out sensually, leaning down to nibble on Q's ear, "Can I show you just how much I respect you by putting you back into bed, my prince?"

Q huffed, laying his head to the side to offer more access, which James happily used to lick down to Q's neck and throat. The prince gave a quiet moan, wrapping his arms around James' neck.

"What if I have to do some work today?"

"You never have to do any work, Q. You're just the prince of England." James blew some air on Q's neck, before drawing away and getting onto his feet. He offered his hand, titling his head with a light smile. "Let's go. Maybe we can hide from your duties by locking the bedroom door."

Q took the hand and got up, leaning into James' arms, tiptoing to kiss his lips. "I love you, James."

"I love you too, my prince."

The room the prince stayed in was bigger than most flats in the area, from London to tiny cities around, maybe even bigger than most in whole Britain. A king-sized bed with a dozen of pillows, three duvets and a closet one could walk into. A TV, a radio, everything one might need, yet the only thing Q got exited about was the laptop standing on his desk, and the tablet on his bedside table.

James pushed down a few papers filled with ideas and doodles of his lover, then dragged Q down on it, pinning the young prince onto the bed beneath him. Q squirmed and leant up, pressing his lips on James' in a heated kiss.

He was being respondive today, James noticed. The right touches at the right places, and Q gasped, eyelids fluttering, lips parted in a soft and noiseless moan. A delicious blush spread out across his cheeks and over his nose, slowly going own his long and slender neck James pressed kisses on, tempted to leave a mark but knowing he wasn't allowed to.

Most in the palace knew about what they had, simply because Bond wasn't a man of acting subtle, nor was he ashamed of being called the prince's private male mistress. As long as the Queen wouldn't find out, he didn't care.

Kissing down Q's neck, James was just about to open Q's shirt and slip a hand into his trousers, as there was a knock on the door.

Blinking, both men sat up and James growled, tempted to shout a curse. Q got up however and opened the door, tilting his head at Tanner who quietly spoke to him, purposely ignoring Bond's glare of annoyance laying on him.

"I told you I have to work today", Q said and winked, "Get up. Work."

James groaned. "Not five more minutes?"

Q shook his head. "No, get up."

The bodyguard jumped onto his feet and got his jacket, following the prince outside onto the corridor. "Your wish is my command, my prince."


	212. Chapter 212

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door was being opened with such a force that Q flinched, lowering his tablet slowly to reach out to the gun laying next to him on James' bedside table.

This paranoid bastard of a vampire, too old to realise that Q wasn't a lady to wine and dine, and to protect. Too old to even care about how practically stalking Q and growling at everyone daring to look at him was a tiny bit overdramatic, but who was Q to judge the courting behaviour or a vampire when he was nothing but a mere human?

He had to sigh at this thought and released the safety of the gun, scrolling down the page he was reading to get back to the point he had been earlier, on his way back from work.

Monitoring James always was more of a dance on glowing coals than the average desk job he had expected as he had been promoted.

James was immortal, which was a horrible thing in itself because he pitied the world for the fact that it would never get rid of this stupid vampire, but also due to his inability to realise that Q _worried_.

The logical part of his brain, the rational and clever one, knew that his lover couldn't die just because he had been hit by a bullet in the chest, right through his heart, but the emotional side of him always felt like breaking apart whenever he heard gunshots, and almost smelled the blood James lost.

Q's blood. Rushing through his veins, pulsating and keeping the vampire alive, two bodies sharing one liquid giving life and being the reason why they had what they had.

His hand reached up to the slowly fading marks James had left last time, two dots on his neck from the vampire's teeth. He blushed lightly as he remembered what had happened that night, before James had left for Russia, the kisses and touches and whispered words in the silence of the night, wrapping its cold and yet caring hands around his creature and the vampire's mate.

That had been two weeks ago. James had gone off-radar once, and the supply of blood they had carefully filled a few bags with over the course of the last months just for such occasions had been long empty by that time, so he expected the worst for James' return.

He had stuck to a diet they both had tested before, had prepared everything for a day spent unconscious and wobbly on his legs due to the blood loss, and he had taken the day after James' supposed return off.

Which brought him back to the issue of someone either throwing down all books they had in their shelves, or of a thug fainting because of some reason Q wasted no time thinking about.

He just got up, put the tablet away and lifted the gun, sneaking into the living room ready to shoot or ask questions if necessary, not in this order despise what James might have said about its use.

Speaking of James, Q thought, letting the gun go with a horrified shout and cry of the agent's name, the agent was bleeding on their carpet. If it wouldn't have been for the fact that they had just bought it three weeks ago, Q hadn't cared, but he let out a suffering sight and asked himself why he fell for a bloody vampire of all people.

Pun intended.

The Quartermaster got on his knees next to James and turned him on his back, fingers trailing lines of cuts, wounds still bleeding which meant James had have some of Q's blood left. It wasn't much, the blood pouring out of the biggest wound on James' chest - deep enough for the vampire's muscles and ribs to be visible - resembled that of a papercut, soaking the white carpet's fabric painfully slowly.

"James?", Q asked, shaking the vampire's side without any mercy, drawing a groan out of the motionless body, "Mouth open. Teeth out. Time for your din-din."

James snorted, cracking an eye open. There was dried blood in it, and the blue nearly was dull, almost white. "Din-din?"

"Oh shut up you giant bat", the human raised an eyebrow and rolled his sleeve up, knowing it would hurt more, but doubting that he could get into a comfortable position while offering his neck to his partner, "Just drink. We both know you need it."

It didn't take more than the sight of blue veins under pale skin for James' instincts to kick in, eyes flashing in a dangerous, pure blue like ice, and teeth growing into fangs in a matter of seconds. White, pointy and strong enough to break skin apart, just like they did now as they sunk into Q's wirst with such a speed that he cried out and whimpered.

James was hungry, too hungry to care.

His sucking hurt, sent shivers of pain through Q's body, up his arm to his brain to be sent to the rest of him, like it wasn't already enough that his arm hurt, no, the legs had to suffer too.

He lay his head back and stared at the wall, surprised at how fast James could suck when he wasn't trying to drive Q crazy. Each suck made Q feel weaker, each made his eyes fall down for a moment, because slowly Q was beginning to feel the effect of the blood he was rapidly using, and he didn't like it.

Fading because of nearly being sucked dry wasn't funny.

James' guilt was the worst about it, followed by the days spent in bed and with a circulation he wanted to hit on the head with a newspaper, _bad boy you're a bad circulation_ , and by now Q knew he was about to faint.

He never would allow such thoughts to invade his mind with his body possessing its full powers and energy reserves. James sucking him out made it difficult to concentrate and focus on breathing.

"James...", he mumbled weakly, looking down just to see the wound on James' chest close, skin re-growing and muscles forming, cuts all over the tanned skin disappearing, "James..."

James' eyes were closed and he only hummed, fingers curling around Q's arm to keep him still as he tried to move away even though he knew it was to no avail. The fingers were nearly crushing his bones, and they hurt. Q could feel himself bruise, but knew it didn't matter because he'd be dead by that time already.

He panted, let out a long breath, before his head sunk down, and he into darkness...


	213. Chapter 213

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Based on this gifset by shipimpala](http://shipimpala.tumblr.com/post/44708112609/00q-au-q-is-the-prince-of-england-bond-is-his)   
>  [Part one](http://iamnotoneofthem.tumblr.com/post/44724861140/based-on-this-gifset-by-shipimpala-xx-xx)

"What do you wish for breakfast, Your Royal Highness?", the servant asked in the sweet, perfectly polite and submissive voice Q hated so much.

It reminded him of the pressure put on his shoulders, the constant weight pressing down onto him. He wasn't a human being, he was the prince. They did whatever he wanted, and it was highly annoying.

Q loved to argue.

He only could do that with his bodyguard and then it was nothing but gentle teasing and bantering, usually ending with kisses and laughing. It wasn't serious, it wasn't challenging. It was okay, but not enough.

For a moment Q thought about asking the servant to argue with him, but the knowledge that he would let him win, and that it wouldn't be the right kind of frustrating, stopped him from doing so. Instead he looked at the door leading to his en-suite bathroom, having to smile.

"A bottle of scotch, please, and two glasses. Scottish breakfast, everything you can find", he replied after a few moments of silence and chuckled at the confused expression of the servant at this request.

Everyone knew he hated the traditional British breakfasts, from English to Scottish to Welsh, but the man didn't dare to ask and just nodded, leaving after a bow and a "As you wish, Your Royal Highness."

The door was closed as silent as humanly possible, just as the door to his bathroom was opened. Steam rose, warmth and wetness causing Q's glasses to mist up. He didn't need to see who it was who entered his room, wearing nothing but a face-splitting grin on his face.

James dropped onto the bed next to his prince and threw an arm over his shoulder, pulling him closer. He was warm, and his hair was wet, some wisps covering his eyes. Q pushed them aside, cupping James' cheek to lean into a soft, lazy kiss.

"Missed me so much already?", the bodyguard hummed and wrapped his arms around Q's waist, making the younger man squirm to get comfortable.

James spun them around easily, with the almost lazy flexing of his muscles, not the tiniest bit of effort. Q made a noise of surprise, then chuckled, throwing his arms around James' neck. They kissed again, tongues dancing, lips moving against the other's, and just as it was getting more heated, there was a knock.

Purely out of reflex, Q was about to push James off him and move away in an appropriate distance, even though the flush of his face and the status of his clothes would have given away what they had been doing, but James' grip tightened and he held him in place.

"Enter", James shouted loudly enough to be heard, and Q hit him on the back of his head.

"Pervert", he hissed, making the other laugh out aloud, the smug smirk of his making the corners of his lips curl up.

"You hurt me, my Prince. Breakfast?"

"With a surprise."

The tray the servant carried in was nearly as wide as his shoulders, if not longer. Plates filled with eggs, back bacon, link sausage, toast with butter on it and baked beans on top of it, the scent rising into Q's nose nearly making him moan out aloud, because it didn't only smell delicious, it smelled like heaven.

Followed by the first, another servant carried in another tray, which made Q wonder if James' presence had been this obvious.

The white shirt and jacket on the floor might have given them away, or the state of undress they had encounted their prince in. Or Q's messy hair, the love bite on his neck, and the used bottle of lubrication in the trash bin right next to the door.

Never in his life had Q been this glad about the loyality of the servants, because this would have been the perfect story for the media and newspapers.

It still was embarrassing.

The second servant's tray was filled with Scottish style black pudding, sliced sausage and tattie scones which Q only recognised because James had told him about them before. There also were mushrooms, haggis and white pudding, something Q didn't know and two glasses. She held a bottle in her hand, putting it on the table next to Q's bed, before both left.

James' expression almost was comical. Eyes slightly widened, mouth hanging open a bit, and he blinked at the trays like they were about to leap at him and bite him.

"That's Scottish breakfast."

"Your deduction skills are impressive, James. Why did my mother hire you again?"

The blonde blinked again and reached out to the bottle of Scotch, humming as he read the title. "Only the best for the prince."

"Only the best for my bodyguard", Q shook his head and pecked James' cheek before he got up, stealing a bit of bacon to chew on it. He lifted one tray to get it on the bed and was about to do the same with the other, but James pulled him back again.

Q squealed and ended up in James' lap, being greeted with a kiss. "You hate all kind of British breakfast."

The prince shrugged. "You like it."

James nodded as he took a plate with white pudding, cutting off a slice to eat it with the buttered toast Q gave him.

He cuddled into his bodyguard's chest and chewed on his bacon, not even remotely happy about the choice of breakfast, but as long as it made James happy, he didn't care. It was bearable, at least, and he could ignore the majority of the plates for those he would eat something off.

"Do you also want a glass of scotch to this early hour, my prince?", James asked pouring himself a glass, putting a bit of ice into it. "It might damage your precious body, my love."

"More than you already do? I take the risk of saying that this is impossible."

Bond put on a hurt face, like a kicked puppy, but the prince looked through it and just rolled with his eyes. "Give me a bloody glass, you wanker."

James laughed. "The kitten has claws."

"Watch your tone." Q pointed at his lover with his index finger, trying to look threatening with his ruffled hair, and with his glasses slowly but steadily slipping down his nose. "I'm your prince. I could have you thrown into exile."

"But then", James mumbled, putting two fingers under Q's chin to make him look up, "who would take care of your morning boner, my love?"

Those words took their effect immediately, and Q burried his face in James' neck to hide his blush. A hand came up to caress Q's hair, fingers softly combing through an army of curls, loosening up some of the knots having formed over the activities of the night.

"I survived without you before, you know", he muttered, lips moving against the bodyguard's neck.

"Yes but you never came that loudly, I bet."

Q choked on air and hit James on the chest, before he stole his toast and bit into it.

"Shut up."

"With pleasure."

James offered the glass of scotch to Q, then lifted his own, smiling softly. It made Q's heart skip a beat, everything fading and slowly being forgotten, because in the sense of importance and significance, nothing was more important than his lover's smile.

The icy blue sparkling softly with love.

"To us, my prince."

Q smiled, lifting his glass in a toast. "To us, my bodyguard."


	214. Chapter 214

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Based on this photoset by shipimpala](http://shipimpala.tumblr.com/post/44944260790/00q-au-bond-is-a-billionaire-q-is-underrated)

Another day, another bottle.

Another lifetime wasted in the stream of people passing, nothing but the blink of an eye. Maybe that was the alcohol talking, but maybe there was a truth behind it, just like the babbling of an insane person.

James downed his martini and ordered another, because he wasn't drunk enough for thoughts like this.

As poetic they were, as deep and interesting, he grew tired of them. Sooner or later, they would end in questions about his existance and the way he lived, and that usually ended in a night spent on the floor of his flat, looking at the Thames from the gigantic windows offering the most beautiful _boring_ view which could possibly exist.

His gaze wandered around the room, over women in dresses, men in suits and over plates filled with expensive food only a restaurant like this could offer.

He didn't like it here.

In fact, he hated the restaurant and its sheer presence in the street next to his flat, the dim lights of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and he wished for one to fall down and kill Bond, because this life was not the life one should live.

Money, women, parties and sex, what did it matter?

It was nothing but an illusion and he knew from experience that it took a height of significance to fall, and after nearly dying protecting his country, why should he care about civilian things?

Sighing he took the glass from the waiter and leant back, settling into the far too comfortable chair, the armrest giving in to embrace him with a disgusting fluffiness.

God, he hated this place.

His gaze fell on the piano in the middle of the room, dark black with a white bench for the performing artist right in front of it. No notes, meaning that either the pianist would bring them with him or her once they'd be here, whenever that was supposed to be, or the performing artist had memorised the pieces played this evening.

James had never been a fan of classical music. He had have his fair share of fancy parties with alcohol being poured out like water, and there always had been a piano, or a group of violinists, playing their music like there was no tomorrow.

Several puns about the Titanic crossed his mind and he downed the glass with one large gulp, breathing out through his nostrils. The noises of a large group entering the restaurant caused not only James to look up, but also several people on other tables due to the annoyance triggered by sounds not made by an instrument.

"Finally!", a voice behind James hissed and he turned his head, watching the owner of the restaurant approach a young man seperating himself from the group, having been about to head towards the piano.

The artist?

No, James thought, looking at him with a frown, that wasn't how a pianist in a restaurant like this should have been dressed like.

A skinny, bony young man with a messy mop of hair on top of his head, wide almost fearful green eyes and pouty lips swollen and slightly red. Tall, maybe a bit smaller than James himself, and lanky, somewhat awkward as he looked at the owner with something alike worry flashing in his eyes.

The suit was nothing but horrible, and it hurt James physically to see him stand there like that, even though it wasn't any of his business.

It was too big on his frame, but that was easy to explain with his far too bony frame. Every tailor would go crazy with that. However, it didn't look like it was custom made, but like a cheap suit every person out there could have bought.

The fabric looked cheaper than the bottles of beer James sometimes bought when he grew tired of expensive champagne, martinis or vodka, a nice scotch now and then to burn away his troubles. A disgusting shade of black, with a red shirt underneath, and at least the bowtie was alright.

Not the choice James would have taken, but it was alright. For an artist in a restaurant, at least.

"Go work, and for fuck's sake, buy a better suit", the owner of the restaurant hissed and pushed the artist towards the piano, none of the customers but James watching the interaction because they didn't care.

He, strangely, did, so he turned his head to have a better look at the piano, and therefore the man.

Long, delicate fingers stroked the keys without pressing on them almost in the loving gesture a lover would choose to stroke over his partner's side, the sparkling in his eyes somehow making him look younger, less troubled.

Those were the fingers of a pianist, James thought, putting down his glass to pay attention.

As the first tunes of Vivaldi's _Spring_ echoed through the room, silently played with hardly any pressure put on the keys - the full potential of the piano not used, almost a shame in James' eyes - and with its notes flying through the air to be carried to his ears, James settled back, watching.

There was something about the boy which caught James' attention, something subtle, yet palpable, and he nearly could reach out and touch it, make it his. The way his fingers flew over the keys, his eyes closed and his lips curled into a smile, it made the boy look like playing was the single reason and the single purpose of and in his life.

Like nothing mattered but the flow of the tunes, the keys under his fingers, and the music filling the room.

James found himself being fascinated and noticed he was staring, too mesmerised by the melody and the artist to do anything else. The alcohol he had consumed was forgotten, the troubles of his life, the night ahead of him in a flat far too big for one person, alone and empty, everything lost its importance.

All he saw was the boy; all he heard was his music.

Without realising it, James had walked up to the piano and the tiny platform it was on, one hand in the pocket of his jacket, the other lazily on his side. The boy didn't look up, but probably saw him.

There was a tiny box next to him on the bench, probably for money.

He looked like he needed it, judging from the state of dress.

"Can you play _Gaspard de la nuit_?", James asked and leant against the piano, hypnotised by those fingers moving over the keys.

The dark thought of imagining them in another situation, with less music, skin against skin, moans and touches and the silence of the night crossed his mind, but he banished it and focused on the here and now. There was time for flirting and seducing later.

The boy finally looked up, smiling. "Of course, sir."

He finished _Spring_ , before he started to play a dark, low melody, at the beginning slow, but then getting a bit faster, causing the whole atmosphere to change from happy to melancholic, even dark, twisted, the shadows James had always loved so much.

He felt himself smile and took out his wallet, putting a lot of money - more than a hundred - into the box, and a little note.

It was easy to tell the moment the boy took a break and noticed the note, and it was easier to tell that he was reading it.

His reaction gave him away and made James chuckle, lifting his glass in a toast. The boy's blush got darker and he squirmed, smiling at James hesitantly.

Later that night, right after the boy's shift was over, James took him to his flat, and fucked him into the mattress.

His screams were just as beautiful as the music he played, and his moans a melody in themselves.

James was no expert in music, but he knew beauty when he saw - _heard_ \- it.


	215. Chapter 215

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The James of this universe had never been recruited to MI6, nor to the Navy, had never been a soldier or spy, but an actor. His name was the same, his alcoholism was the same, the scars on his body from accidents on set, but his past wasn't as dark as those of the other worlds.

He knew that logically, it weren't worlds, but universes and dimensions, tied together by a single string, but he couldn't help himself.

This was the earth, but different than the one he came from. There was no MI6, there has never been a Second World War, nor a first, there was no hunger but illness, and there was war not between different countries or governments, but in the very core of each continent, people against soldiers.

It was brutal and merciless, but Q didn't care because in his world, there was none of that. He just walked past the corpse of a young boy in the middle of the street like any citizen did, heading to James' house.

Something he had realised the first time he had switched was that there was a Q in every universe, just like there always was a James. There was an Eve, Mallory, Tanner - they all existed, but were different.

Eve here still was working for Mallory, but they were married, expecting their third child. Tanner was an ordinary man, a face passing in the crowd where Q sometimes spotted him, tempted to go and talk to Bill, but he never did because this universe's Q and Tanner didn't know each other.

It was a rule Q had made himself on one of his first trips: Do not interfere.

James in another universe had been killed by terrorists attacking MI6, dying in Q's arms. Not him, but the other Q, without glasses and short hair cut above his neck. He could have helped. Warned them, or done something, _anything_ , but he stuck to his rules and had let James die.

It had been James' gun this universe's Q had killed himself with, the very gun Q had brought him earlier because he would have done the same.

They had broken up in another one, where some men could get pregnant, after Q had lost their child. James had re-married, a young woman with brown hair and green eyes shining dark like the early night or evening, and Q had found a new boyfriend after five years.

He could have done something, but he hadn't, and as the Q who wasn't him had died by his boyfriend's hand, all he had done was leaving a note in front of James' house, and he had watched him fight off tears.

Some universes were cruel, worse than the one Q came from.

They were filled with horror and gore, blood and pain. James died, Q died, they both were kidnapped, one got sick and never recovered, the other couldn't cope.

Sometimes they didn't meet.

It always broke Q's heart to see himself sitting in a café, drinking coffee and reading a book, and not being able to do anything. And it hurt to see James come in with a woman or sometimes a man on his arm, clearly unhappy but trying to hide it, and not allowing himself to make his other self and the agent meet.

One push would have been enough. Coffee spilled over James' jacket and a muttered and stuttered apology, green meeting blue, and _boom_ \- love.

Another universe, another life, another destiny. It all could have happened in his own world or not, some dimensions filled with fantasy and magic, others with death and desperation.

He had seen them all, and not every yet, because as far as Q was concerned, universes were eternal, and he wasn't.

Q never knew where he ended up, it wasn't like a controlled switching, more of a jump into the darkness only to fall hard on the ground in another lifetime, nearly being run over by a metallic horse.

The Quartermaster closed his eyes, felt the familiar pull from something inside his body, being and bones fading, voices and scents disappearing until there was nothing. No air, nothing physical to cling onto, there was absolutely nothing and he embraced the feeling as long as it was palpable and there.

He opened his eyes again, finding himself in a garden behind a house in the country-side, and he had to smile. He has been here before.

A child nearly spotted him as it ran past him, her blonde curls hanging into her face and the dress dancing in the wind, bright eyes sparkling with something Q had never experienced himself, had no name for, but it made his heart skip a beat of happiness.

Taking a step backwards, he hid behind a tree and watched her jump up into James' lap, the grey-haired man laughing and kissing her forehead softly.

Q turned around to spot himself looking slightly older, end of thirty maybe, without his glasses. Dressed in a shirt and jeans, barefooted as he walked through the grass, up to his little family.

They looked happy. Civilians, as Q knew, an author and a pianist, mates in an universe Q almost liked more than his own. Because here, everyone had a mate, and everyone would find luck in love.

He closed his eyes again and allowed the stream of time and space to bring him back to his own world, just in time to see double-oh-seven step into his office, a new scar telling a new story in the face of a man who had seen too much.

"Double-oh-seven", he greeted, folding his hands behind his back, fingers curling around the object he had taken, "I take it you have nothing to return."

James gave a faked, _wrong_ , smile. "Apparently not, Q."

Q sighed and turned around, opening his safe.

He put the little doll inside, brushing the blonde hair out off her face, blinking away tears of regret as he closed the door again, leaving the universe behind.

He'd return it.

But not just yet.


	216. Chapter 216

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This is crack. I blame rerumfragmenta for it, she started it._

"More! James are you fucking deaf, I said more!"

"Someone's eager."

"Just do it and shut up."

A minion looked up and frowned, blinking once or twice. The noises were coming out of Q's private office which had hardly ever been used before, but since double-oh-seven and Q chose to develop their relationship, it was... frequently used.

Daily, even. Lunch time has always been ignored by the Quartermaster for the sake of working, but since James had happened, he couldn't finish his work quick enough.

And always these noises. Moaning, groaning, screams and cries, always _'More'_ and _'Faster!'_.

It was unnerving. Annoying, even. How were they supposed to work when they did... whatever they were doing.

It didn't have to be sex, it only was highly likely that it was sex.

"It's not even lunch time, yet", a minion groaned in annoyance, taking out earphones to put into her ears, but not without throwing an highly annoyed glance to the door.

They had some new minions, whose first day after a mission of Bond's it was today. Their expressions were utterly confused and so innocent that some others felt pity, but there was little they could do.

"What are they even doing in there?", one of the asked another, the little group turning to the door as if it could give them the answer to that, "Are they... you know..."

The minion blushed and shook his head. "That'd be unprofessional, right?"

"Q told me that he and double-oh-seven planned on moving the furniture in his office."

Minion 1 blinked. "Why would they do that?"

The other shrugged. "Something about moving a couch in. Q forgets to sleep and never leaves his branch, so Bond bought him a couch."

"He bought him a couch?"

She leant closer, smirking. "Rumour has it he bought him a tailored suit and diamond cufflinks at their first date."

Minion 3's eyes went wide. "You got to be kidding."

She shook her head, some of her blonde hair falling into her face. "No, I swear that's true. I have it from R."

"Q doesn't wear suits."

"When he has to, like for a meeting", an older one interrupted, rolling with his eyes, "We have pictures. Now work."

There was more moaning coming from the door, cries and the noises of furniture squealing. Q moaning James' name and grunting deep enough to only come from Bond, loud and audible in the whole Q-branch no matter how far away the underling's desk was.

By now, everyone had stopped working, staring at the door in disbelief.

_It wasn't even lunch._

_They had only been away from each other for two weeks, under constant contact._

_**It wasn't even lunch yet.** _

"Faster!"

"I'm on it-"

"I said _faster!_ "

Q's moan nearly was a shout, causing a minion to flinch and nearly let her tablet fall. Others stared, wondering what the fuck was going on.

"We should safe money", one mumbled, "Soundproof office. Who agrees?"

Half of Q-branch lifted their hands, the others couldn't hear them because of the music they were listening to. The faint sound of classical music fading into hard rock filled Q-branch, but wasn't loud enough.

"Q-"

"Oh god James..."

"Hold still..."

Another moan, and the noise of something falling down. One man looked slightly sick and left, closing the door behind him.

It was horrible enough that Q-branch had to listen to this, the agents passing them didn't need that too. Thanks god that Q's office wasn't made out of glass walls too, or else...

"You can't tell me that's the sound someone makes when moving objects."

"Well..." Minion 1 cleared his throat. "The couch is heavy..."

"...and Q's clearly not made for such a job, not to mention that moving a desk is hard. Bond is just... assisting."

One raised her eyebrows. "And the moaning?"

"Physical activities can... trigger such noises."

"M-mmh."

"I mean, they have to move a desk and a computer, and not a laptop, but an actual computer", he continued, throwing nervous glances the other freshlings, "It can be... exhausting."

"And why does Q moan _'faster'_ then?"

There was silence after that, except for the occasional moan or cry, or Bond's grunting which couldn't have been human, at least not remotely. There was something animalistic about it, which worried every single one of the nerds, if not for their own sake, but Q's.

"Maybe Bond dropped something on his foot."

"And it hurts, hence the moaning."

"Yes", a young woman nodded enthusiastically, "And he can't get it off so Bond has to do it."

An older minion groaned out. "They are having sex, for fuck's sake!"

"No, they're not. They are moving the furniture."

"Are you naive? They are-"

"Ssh!"

Everyone went silent, staring at the door as the noises died down after one last moan, clearly from Bond. They had finished. They'd come out any moment.

"Why don't you just ask them?"

As Bond and Q stepped out of the office, everyone could take a guess about what they had done. Q's hair was completely messy and ruffled, his cardigan out of place. Bond's suit wasn't any better, and the faint chuckling of a female minion was audible from the back rows of the desks.

"Um...", Q started, wetting his lips nervously and pushing his glasses up again, "We... we moved the couch. It fell down on my foot. So we go to medical and you... you work."

Bond lead him out but not without the trademark grin of his, looking at the minions and daring them to speak up. They left, but not without the minions whispering once they were gone.

"Told you they were moving the furniture."

" **Who even hired you!?** "

xx  
xx

"Where are Bond and the Quartermaster?"

Everyone automatically looked at the office, and M raised an eyebrow, blinking at the sudden silence.

"They..."

"They are moving furniture. You shouldn't interrupt them."

"No."

M frowned. "Moving furniture?"

"Yes."

"A couch."

"Bond bought it."

"You shouldn't go in there."

"Alright...", M trailed off and turned around, slowly walking out. Q-branch, a bunch of crazy idiots.

Minion 1 breathed out. "Thanks god the office is soundproof."


	217. Chapter 217

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was like someone threw a switch inside his head, and what had been grey and black before now was bright, colourful, funny.

Q didn't need a long time to figure out what it was, but as he did he had to smile and lay his head back, blowing out smoke without realising where he had the cigarette from. Maybe he had bought it before, which would make sense since he and James now and then smoked together, especially after a stressful day at work.

Had it been a stressful day?

Q couldn't remember, and it filled him with something close to amusement. God, how he had missed the feeling of a hypomanic episode, it always gave him the feeling of flying without having to leave the ground; of falling without dying and of laughing at the top of his lungs, nearly choking and not needing air, because at the end everyone died, so why bother breathing just to cling onto one's existance like a maniac?

The Quartermaster giggled at his choice of words and got up from the bed, feeling James stirr and move, but not bothering to tell him where he was going.

If Q was honest, he didn't know it either, but his mind was full of ideas and he was willing to try out every single one of them, because they were brilliant. Every single one of them the work of a pure genius.

He threw on something, not really caring if the shirt was James' or his, or if the pants were the same he wore yesterday at work. His blood pulsated with energy, his veins pumping enthusiasm instead of liquid to his heart and brain, and with his brilliance he could solve any problem, would he want to.

The shirt was too big and white, the trousers slipped down his hips almost constantly, but he simply took a belt, tied it around his stomach to hold them up and the problem was solved.

"Q?"

Not turning around, Q threw his glasses on the ground, stepped on them and left the flat barefooted, only hearing the shout of his name but not stopping. He disappeared in the crowd outside, seeing the glimpse of blue eyes and blonde hair before it was gone.

 

Without a destination, without a cause or an idea where to start, time passed.

It flew with Q, accompanied him through the city. No one paid attention to him, only when he bumped into them. For them, he was nothing but a freak, nothing but a ghost they already forgot about the moment he was gone. He found some money in his trousers and gave a hundred pounds to a homeless man and his dog while humming a melody, avoiding to step on the darker stones in the pavement with concentration.

There still was money left.

So, Q decided, he should buy something to eat, more cigarettes and maybe a cat. He had always wanted to have one, and he was sure James would adore the tiny little thing like Q would.

Maybe a black one. Or white. White would remind Q of James' hair, which slowly was greying and he knew that the agent didn't like it, but he couldn't understand why because he personally liked it that way, and the wrinkles were cute.

Or maybe brown. Middle thing, meeting halfway and all that kind of psychological stuff the relationship worker at MI6 had told them after a hard crisis, because of which half of an island near Spain had been blown up a few months ago.

Q's phone rang and he took it out, throwing it into a puddle of rain on the street, always having wanted a new one anyway.

He went around the corner and hid behind it, lifting a hand to giggle into it as a black, suspicious car passed the street without spotting Q, obviously looking for him. They could have been less subtle, but Q still would have noticed them regardless. He was a genius, after all, he was above that.

Stealing a bag from a shop outside, Q took a map after going into a tourist centre, searching for the closest pet shop. A ginger cat, that would be nice. Fluffy and tiny, with big eyes and an adorable meow, wrapping James around its paw with no effort, and Q was sure James would love the idea just as much as Q did.

xx  
xx

James found Q dancing in a fountain, laughing and singing loudly, his expression reminding James of a man he had killed in a mental ward once.

Some people were watching, but most just passed the strange scene with nothing more than a single glance, and the roll of eyes.

Q didn't seem to notice the agent which he took as a good sign and an opportunity, but now he had to think about how to get the Quartermaster back at home without him causing havoc.

This had happened before, yet every time it scared James to death. Q wasn't himself anymore during those episodes, he was a different person, so childish and reckless, but so happy that sometimes it broke James' heart to see the effects fade, and the depression return.

Ususally Q had his pills. They were supposed to help but James didn't understand how, nor why they hadn't worked this time. He had no idea about this whole disorder, how to take care of Q or how to deal with it - James knew about death, about weapons and how to react when being shot at, knew of adrenaline and the thrill of watching a bullet he had shot break through his enemy's skull.

Getting Q to calm down, offer him comfort, a safe home and a person to trust, however, was something James was overwhelmed by. He didn't know which episodes he preferred, if he would rather stop Q from committing suicide or from jumping off a tree because he thought that he wouldn't get hurt.

He carefully stepped closer and wrapped an arm around Q's waist, pulling him away from the fountain and onto the pavement. Of course he didn't have a towel with him to dry his lover, but he shrugged off his jacket and forced Q to put it on.

The younger glared, hugging his bag close to him. Something inside it moved and _meowed_ , and James let out a long breath, desperately trying to stay calm.

"A cat?"

"Of course a cat!", Q huffed, "It's a good idea. Cats are lovely and adorable, and there's nothing speaking against it."

"We both aren't at home very often."

"Cats are independant creatures."

James raised an eyebrow and opened the bag, looking into huge green eyes and the fluffy face of a ginger cat, slowly closing it again. He resisted the urge to throw the bag into the water, and just lifted Q up onto his arms.

"Did you forget to take your pills?", he asked as he carried Q to his car, writing a message to Eve to tell her that he had found the younger man, and that Q-branch could stop panicking.

Q shook his head, burying his face in James' neck. "I took them."

James hummed. "Doesn't look like it." He sighed. "Did you name the kitten?"

His lover gave a happy noise and hugged the bag close to him, even as he was sitting on the passenger seat already, bringing water on the expensive leather. James really tried not to be annoyed by it, he really did, but he had to count to ten to not comment on it.

It wasn't Q's fault.

It never was, no matter what he did. It was his disorder's fault, and the medication's, and the fucking world's.

"I named it cupcake."

James smiled. "But that's already your nickname."

Q huffed. "The cat's called cupcake. Point. Cupcake."

The older closed his eyes as he turned on the engine, just glad that Q didn't think that jumping out off the car was a good idea after breaking a bone trying to get out off James' on the middle of the street once. 

It could be worse, actually, Q could have bought a shark.


	218. Chapter 218

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it was a rare occasion that all agents in possession of the double-oh status of Her Majesty's Secret Service, then it even was more unusual for all of them to be called into M's office at once.

James hadn't seen double-oh-four in a while, maybe even years. She had gone to a mission in France as an undercover prostitute in a whorehouse controlled by a corrupt politician, and he hadn't seen her since. From the way she seemed to be relaxed, he figured she didn't mind it, not as much as someone else would have.

Double-oh-six was annoyed, judging by his expression, and James was just confused about the reason.

Last time they had been summoned to M's office all at once must have been shortly after James had finished his first mission as a double-oh.

But now, he couldn't find a reason for this, no matter how hard he tried to focus on the recent events or missions.

There was no obvious threat, at least none he would be informed about, and usually being in a relationship with MI6's Quartermaster meant that he was informed about everything. Even the information he didn't want to know about _or why he never would be able to look at the minion with the glasses again without feeling the urge to smack her head against the laptop she was working on_.

So this either was above Q's clearance level, which couldn't be possible because then, it would be above every single agent's, including James' own, or this wasn't serious. M had never been introduced to every double-oh beyond the reports he required from every of his agents once in a while, so maybe this was it.

A bit of alcohol, small-talk, the kind of conversation James wasn't particularily fond of.

He could charm off dresses and the occasional trousers, but talking to the new M in a respectful way was beyond James' abilities, and he didn't bother trying to get better in this aspect.

"You can come in now", Eve said as she finally opened the door, stepping aside to let the double-oh's in. "He's expecting you."

"M should learn punctuality", 004 groaned out and walked ahead, probably ready to rant or make a comment, but she stopped in the middle of the doorway. James never saw her face, but he still liked to imagine that her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were wide.

"Double-oh's. No need to form a crowd in the doorframe."

James blinked.

Either his senses were mocking him, or Q was inside that room and no sight of M, because as the agents slowly stepped inside and took the shape of a half-circle in front of M's desk, there was no sight of the Englishman.

There only was Q, sitting behind M's desk with his hands folded on his stomach, comfortably leaning against the armrest of the chair.

"Before either of you asks what is wrong: M called in sick today, so it was decided I'm in charge of everything until his physical condition has improoved, and we can be sure that he will be capable of dealing with his work in the usual quality of his", Q lifted his hands and shrugged, sitting up into a less casual position, almost business-like, "And since you all happen to be in London at this exact day, it is me who you'll have to report to for the next week, if not more. Depending on M's stubbornness."

"Why you?", 006 asked, frowning, "Why not Tanner or Moneypenny?"

Q leant forward, opening a file to sign it, faking M's signature perfectly. "Because it has been chosen so. Any more questions, double-oh-six?"

Q looked up and raised an eyebrow at the agent who nodded, arms crossed behind his back. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now let's see...", the youngest man of all in this room pushed a file to the opposite edge of the desk, gesturing to it with a pen, "Your next mission, double-oh-six, R will give you the equipment you require."

"Where to, sir?", 006 asked as he opened the file, briefly reading through what he'd go through in the next two weeks. Something about China, James read over his shoulders, stepping backwards again.

Q as the head of MI6.

The thought was as entertaining as worrying, and strangely it was a tiny bit arousing. James subtly adjusted himself in his trousers, keeping his expression blank, but he was sure that 004 had seen it because she was smirking.

"China, double-oh-six, I thought it was required for agents of all ranks to read."

James snorted, 004 laughed. Six just huffed and turned around after Q said he was dismissed, walking away quickly with an annoyed expression. 007 didn't know what was wrong with him, he definitely was in favour of this temporary change.

Q looked hot with a suit on, which Eve had probably forced him into after he had set foot into this office. The wrapper of what he figured once had been a cupcake made it obvious Q was corrupt.

Or biased, either way, his sugar addiction one day would cause him to sell information just for a cupcake.

"And what do you have for me, sweetie?", 004 asked, stepping to Q's desk.

"You can return to France, we think that the situation soon should be solved. Another month, maybe." Q lifted the file without looking up, waving his goodbye silently, 004's high heels echoing on the tiles of the corridors.

The others were sent away quickly.

008 got a new mission in India, and the rest was dismissed without one and the instruction to "stay tuned and be ready, in case something happens".

As only James was left, the agent stepped closer to Q's desk and reached down, forcing him to look up by moving his tie. Q's eyes met James, and Q's filled with disbelief once he saw James' dilated pupils.

"You are aroused by that?", he huffed, pulling James down for a fierceful kiss over the desk, "You pervert."

"There's something about you in a suit."

Q raised an eyebrow. "Only that?"

"Of course, what else is there to be aroused by?"

"Me? Or the fact that I'm your superior and the head of MI6."

James chuckled, reaching out to slip a hand into Q's trousers, wrapping his fingers around Q's cock.

"Well, _sir_ ", James whispered, hearing the faint sound of Q's breath hitching, "How about I fuck you into your desk and make you scream?"

Q's eyes nearly went black. "That's acceptable, agent."


	219. Chapter 219

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Based on this photoset by shipimpala](http://shipimpala.tumblr.com/post/44944260790/00q-au-bond-is-a-billionaire-q-is-underrated)   
>  [Part 1](http://iamnotoneofthem.tumblr.com/post/44971985180/based-on-this-photoset-by-shipimpala-xx-xx)

The boy played every evening, from seven to midnight, in the same restaurant, the same suit, and with the same tired eyes looking at the keys in an almost depressed way.

James hadn't been there the evening after he'd taken him to bed, made him scream and moan, nor the evening afterwards.

He was hiding from the responsibilities connected to money - the charity events, the same over and over again in the dancing lights of day passing in the beat of a heart, the blink of an eye; the women flirting because his suit spoke of money, and the men trying to get into his life to leave it in _flames_.

Hiding meant drinking.

Drinking meant days and nights in which he downed champagne like it was water, cheep bear like it was wine, mixed them together with pills and everything he could find in the cupboards of his kitchen.

Drinking meant passing out in the living room, or on his bed when he had made it there, and drinking meant waking up in his own vomit.

He was used to this by now, because, quite frankly, it had happened for many years by now. Today, three weeks after last having seen the boy, he returned to the restaurant in his best suit, sat down on a table and watched him play.

It wasn't a romantic reason which had brought him here, nor was it the love for classical music, or skinny boys with a mop of dark hair on their head.

James was out of alcohol, that was it. He could have ordered some more, but that would have initiated human contact and the need for conversation, and he wasn't up for either at the moment. They had nice wine here, and a good scotch, so why not going here and watch talented fingers fly over the keys?

Hours passed.

The boy hadn't told James his name, but neither had James, and the idea of calling the pianist _boy_ had a nice sound to it. Something beautifully twisted and wrong, and bittersweet on his tongue as he tried it out to himself, eyes laying on the boy intensely.

After three glasses of scotch, James decided that the night would be terribly wasted like this - just watching, when all he wanted to do was touch and explore again, mark the pale skin as his for the night.

The same rhythm, the same _danse et jeu dangereux_ with which he had seduced the boy the first time.

He went to him flying on the soft notes of _'Comptine d'un autre été'_ echoing, carried a beginning made of four bars, e-minor, G, h-minor, D. The boy didn't look up, but there was something in his eyes James immediately spotted, the way they widened and the way he squirmed as if he still remembered the pain of the day after.

James requested _'Morning Mood'_ as a joke, because he could recall that the boy had hummed it leaving James' flat in the early morning, and it fit.

Midnight came, and under the joyful, stressless beauty of Mozart's music, g h d, four bars, he asked the boy if he wanted to come with him again, because he had the feeling that they both would enjoy this very much.

"I can't", was the reply, and shy green eyes were lowered until their gaze rested on the pianist's hands, "I-"

James put a finger on his lips before he could continue speak, a feral feeling inside him growing with a roar as he saw how the boy's eyes went wider, pupils dilating slightly. So they were remembering the same thing.

"Whatever your reason is, I am sure something can be arranged." James took out his phone. "We can go to yours. Grand me the honour of listening to your music for another night."

He had money, a lot, was about to offer the boy some just to have him again, but the artist already stood up and mumbled his address in something close to shame, his cheeks flushing in a delicate pink James couldn't resist to comment on. Leaning over, he licked over the faintest trace of stubble on the artist's cheeks, drawing a moan from him.

"Still convinced about your planned leave?", he whispered into his ear, moving a hand to rest it on the small of the boy's back, "It's one night, nothing more. I want to make you scream."

A shiver ran down the boy's spine, and James' smile had something dark to it as he called his driver.

xx  
xx

He was poor, and that horribly so.

It was the first thought crossing James' mind as he woke up in the morning, sticky and sweaty, terribly tired and sore from a night spent having sex over and over again, just being as fit as the boy as the younger one of the two.

Experience, nothing more, not something he was proud of but also something he couldn't undo, so he wasn't really bothered.

The bed almost was too tiny for one person of their height, for two people it was worse than the ships James had slept on during his Navy time. He had have to wrap his arms around the boy's waist and had to twine their legs, or otherwise they wouldn't have been able to find any sleep.

Judging from the size of it, it could almost be a child's, or the bed of an adolescent.

The room wasn't any better either, destroyed furniture, only one suit, a few shirts laying around on the ground and two pairs of trousers. The most valuable thing he could see was an old phone, those without internet access and without any apps.

No wardrobe, nor any kind of storage room.

The room outside was completely messy, with the piano almost taking everything in. James didn't have to be an expert to know that it was broken, probably not working like it was supposed to, with cracks in the woods and two missing keys, a black and a white one further up.

No kitchen, just a tiny, dirty fridge, a torn armchair and notes laying around on the whole ground, almost like a carpet. He tried to avoid stepping on them, but Mozart and Beethoven had to suffer, just like this Russian guy making music out of art, the drunktard.

How ironic that James couldn't remember his name, of all people.

Before the boy could wake up, James finished buttoning his shirt, slipped into his trousers and went to the fridge to see if there was anything he'd like to drink. Tea, milk, sugar, and an old, disgusting sandwich.

This wasn't a flat, it was a battlefield, and he realised that the boy was very, very poor. A kind of... condition James wasn't exactly familiar with, coming from a family with money, but there was the slightest bit of pity creeping through him together with the headache from his alcohol consumation of the two past days.

He stole two painkillers from the bathroom, where he found so many pills without labels that he gave up after finding anti-deppressiva, and swallowed them dry, fishing out his wallet.

Two hundred should be enough for a while, maybe one day, James would take him home again, and there'd be more.

He left, his driver already waiting outside.

xx  
xx

Two weeks later, he went up to the platform with Wagner in his ears, and the melody forming dancing shapes on the walls, shadows twisting in the light and the darkness of James' hungover mind.

He requested 'Morning Mood' again, and watched the boy's eyes widen.

"Your place or mine?", the boy asked, and his voice sounded empty, just like his eyes.


	220. Chapter 220

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding came closer to closer, and left James with an iritating sense of fear and claustrophobia, something he couldn't understand nor work with.

Friday evening, the guests would arrive, all by plane since they - Vesper - had decided that marrying on an island in the middle of the ocean would be lovely. James had bought her the island, paid for the tickets, and stood next to her in his suit as they all came one by one.

Three days, part of him panicked already, something inside him writheing and causing his stomach to cramp painfully. He wasn't a man for things like that, hell, he would like to go inside and fuck Vesper into the mattress because he felt like it was the only thing keeping him interested.

It was cruel, it was horrible and he was an arse, but that was just the truth.

She was lovely, really, but something felt wrong.

Both knew they weren't mates, and in these days it was nearly impossible to meet one's mate. Too many people, too many countries, and the compulsory registration for shifters wasn't as useful as it used to be in his Navy time.

It had always been enough for them, the mutual attraction and the fact that they could get along well enough, and now that she had voiced out her desire to marry, _to settle_ , he felt something was wrong. Only the subtle vibrations going through his body, like it was calling for something or someone, were a sign for this, and if James was honest he thought about going inside while the guests came, so he wouldn't growl at one in annoyance.

Later that day, he realised he would have regretted it had he gone inside, because then he maybe would have met **him** at the wedding or afterwards, and the chaos caused then had been far worse.

His name was Benjamin, but everyone called him Q, a little insider gag James felt no desire to understand.

He had messy dark brown hair, green eyes and wore huge glasses. Apparently he had always worn a cardigan when Vesper had last seen him, because she immediately commented on his suit as she shook his hand, not hugging him like everyone else.

"You would have had my head, Vesper", he said with an amused, obviously faked, smile, before turning his head to James, "It's a pleasure, Mister Bond. Call me Q."

"As everyone does", James returned the offered smile, taking the other's hand to shake it.

Some bonded mates had once described the feeling of finding one's mate to him, how the world stopped turning and everything lost its focus, everything coming together in the eyes of the other. How nothing else mattered anymore.

He had never believed them, because love made blind, and bonding turned their brains into mashed potatoes, but in this moment he could swear that he experienced exactly what they had said.

The world stopped spinning, voices faded, people disappeared in his head and it didn't matter why they were here, that Vesper was just next to him greeting another friend.

All that mattered was Q, only Q, and James' eyes went wide in shock about the realisation that _this was his mate_. This skinny, little man with the odd nickname was his mate, and he'd met him right before he got married to Vesper.

James mouthed a 'Fuck', staring down at their hands.

Every mate had their own symbol, with which they could be recognised as mated everywhere. James' had been faint for the first few years of his life, the first twenty or so. Had he thought that he'd been born without a mate, but now he knew he just had not been born yet.

Age difference. Vesper. Wedding.

There were probably a dozen reasons why this was horrible, and why destiny was a fucking bitch, yet in this moment James found himself as happy as he had never been before.

He turned Q's hand almost gently, not letting go, seeing the matching symbol to his own in Q's palm, hidden away from view except for James.

Just in this moment, Q drew away, turned around and left. Disappearing in the crowd of people forming, Vesper in the middle of them, not having noticed a single thing from what had happened here. James blinked, torn between staying and following the other, his heart clutching painfully in his chest.

xx  
xx

"What are you doing here?", was the first thing Q asked as James entered his room without knocking, causing the younger man to jump and stare at him in disbelief. "You have a wife to be with."

James shook his head, carefully locking the door behind him. "Not anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"She knows." James folded his arms behind his back, if only to hide the bruises his former-fiancée had left in her rage. "There's little use in marrying when I found my mate, is there?"

Q turned around completely finally, his eyes meeting James'. Bond's expression softened a bit and he took a step forward, finally being able to inhale **his** Omega's scent.

It was the sweetest, most beautiful smell existing, making his nostrils flare and his pupils dilate as he stepped closer and closer, until their chests nearly were pressed together.

"What makes you think that I want this?", Q asked, raising an eyebrow, "Why should I want to be together with a man who left the woman he wanted to marry a day before the wedding?"

"Because your body calls for me", James replied bluntly, reaching out a hand to stroke Q's cheek and watching how the man immediately leant into the contact, "Because we are mates. Because I need you."

Q let out a long breath, hands shaking in the effort he tried to put into drawing away despise what his body was telling him to do. James leant down, nose brushing Q's, lips only inches apart.

"Say the word and I go. Take the next plane and step out off your life."

The younger let out a long breath before inhaling deeply, pupils dilating until his eyes were nearly black.

"Say it", James growled, already pushing Q towards the bed, burying his face in the Omega's neck to breathe in pheromones instead of oxygen, "Say a word and I'll go."

Q never gave an answer, but James figured the way he pressed his lips on James' were reply enough. He licked his way into the Omega's mouth and tangled his fingers in his thick curls, lifting his head.

He drew away only to lick down to Q's neck, biting into it to leave his mark.

The moan he drew from the younger man made James' inner beast growl, made him push the other onto the bed and climb on top of him to pin him down into the sheets, claiming his lips in a bruising kiss again.

"Where do you live?", he asked breathlessly in a moment he drew away to let Q breathe.

"London."

"So do I", James hummed, kissing the mark he had left, "Move in with me."

"Ves-"

"Forget about her."

It wasn't hard to, because his heart belonged to another person now, to Q and his skinny frame, green eyes wide as James got rid of his clothes, stroked over his side and down to his hips.

In this night, he took Q as his mate, made the Omega scream and moan in noises which made James' heart flutter and beat rapidly. And as he woke up the next day, with the other's body curled into his side, he felt his heart swell in love.


	221. Chapter 221

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tell me, why are we doing this again?"

"Because, " Q replied, picking up his underwear, a tight pair of pants James immediately wanted to rip off again, "you promised me to accompany me. And admit it, you're exited."

The agent turned his head towards the massive _thing_ laying on the bed, dark black with so much fabric used and cut perfectly into the right shape. Probably more MI6 technology put into it than it would be legal, to perfectly copy the way the suit looked in the movies.

"I'm not."

"Yes you are", Q huffed, "You jumped out off the bed quicker than I could turn off the alert clock."

"That's the Navy commander in me."

James offered his lover a smile and picked up his own clothes, surprised by how heavy they were.

It was a mask, going down to his neck almost, a part for his torso, his legs, shoes, a cape, a belt and a few toys Q had made out of boredom. Lethal, working weapons, he had reminded James, no throwing around and showing off.

Which went against this whole cosplay idea, but that was only James' opinion, and apparently he had no idea about things when it came to modern stuff. Q had even gone so far to explain him what a convention was, as if James had never been on one before.

Part of his childhood, a memory long forgotten and suppressed, but it was there.

He knew what brought people into the halls and rooms, dressed up as heroes, characters from books, movies, comics. It was an interesting concept, except for the weirdness of it.

Slipping into his trousers, he put on the black shoes, followed by the part for his upper body. It fit perfectly, like a second skin, left him enough freedom to move without any problems, but also was tight enough to not leave a weakness in its protection function. The symbol lay on the chest, taken straight from the movie and not the comics, because _they are horrible, James, the costume would have got him killed in seconds_.

"How long did it take you to make that?", James asked, eying himself critically in the mirror.

That was a fascinating use of his muscles, he thought, turning around and blinking. "Is it really necessary to put so much focus on my arse?"

"It's a lovely arse", Q shouted from the bathroom where he was getting dressed, door open and light falling into their bedroom, where the clothes from yesterday covered the ground, "And it's my lovely arse. Besides, you should be proud of it. Really lovely arse."

James blinked, searched for a few words, but was stunned to silence.

But then, he grinned. "Well, thank you. Your backside is very nice as well."

Q stuck his head out through the door, skin around the other's eyes black with paint. He held up a make-up pen, throwing it into James' hands. "Paint your eyes black, a big circle around it."

"Why?"

"Because the mask doesn't cover this area properly, and skin would be visible." Q waved with his own and put it on, raising an eyebrow as James nearly broke out into laughter. "No. Stop. You look more amusing and am I laughing? No." He pointed at his face. "Serious. We're superheroes, James, you are the night."

James leant back, starting to paint his eyes black with the help of the mirror on the wall. "I am the night."

Q nodded. "You are the night. Behave."

He disappeared again and James could hear cursing, something being thrown onto the ground. For a moment he considered going to him and checking that he was fine, but the next wave of curses calmed him down.

If Q could still curse as eloquently as he talked about technology and art, then everything was alright.

One glance at the clock hanging on their wall, James reached out to the mask and put it on with difficulties, groaning in annoyance until he managed to find the holes for his eyes.

Only the cape and the belt were missing, which he put on after standing up. He caught glimpse of himself in the mirror, blinking.

Oh well, he tilted his head, spreading his arms to make the cape look like wings. This looked rather good on him, with all the muscles and even the cape was fun to play with.

Q came out of the bathroom and stopped to laugh, and James turned around to him, letting his voice drop a few notes. "I am the night."

"Oh god, this is wonderful. It suits you."

"Of course it does", he said, turning around to show off to Q, smirking, "Everthing suits me."

Q leant against the wall and crossed his arms in front of his own costume, red with a cape shorter than James' own, his mask only covering his eyes and part of his nose. The costume was tight and accented every single curve of Q's bony body, soft under James' touch as he stepped closer, running his hands over his side and down to his arse to cup it.

"I like your costume", he muttered, leaning down to press a kiss on Q's lips, "People will stare."

"Sure your jealousy can handle this, my love?"

James grinned. "I'll be close", his voice dropped again, "Watching you from the shadows."

"You are enjoying yourself far too much." Q let out a long breath. "That was a huge mistake of mine."

"Probably." He kissed Q again, licking his way into his mouth. "We should go or we'll be late."

Q took the keys and threw them to James, who put his gloves on and followed his lover outside. If the people on the street stared, then James didn't notice it because he didn't care.

xx  
xx

"I am the night", James whispered into Q's ear, making the younger man jup and flinch away under the curious glances from several people around them.

"Jesus Christ, are you insane?!"

"What, _Robin_ , are we jumpy today?"

"Fuck you."

"That's rude."

James wrapped an arm around Q's waist and pulled him close, kissing his cheek. The flash of a camera made him smirk and look up, seeing a child with her camera, eyes huge and wide. Her mother took her hand and dragged her along, throwing an angry glare at them.

"I think she doesn't like us being gay in public."

"Robin's suit is gay. There's little we can do to change that."

His lover turned around in his arms and leant against him, playing with James' cape.

"We can come back next year, if you want."

"I'd love to", James smirked.


	222. Chapter 222

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's not your time yet", greeted him a soft voice in his ear, barely above a whisper, the soft echoing of bells and music all around him being carried by the air, "What are you doing here?"

“And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

There was the slightest gust of wind caused by wings fluttering, soft feathers under his fingers as he reached out and let his fingertips brush over them. The jump he couldn’t see but feel in the air made him smile, because as horrible this situation was, it reminded him of the times...

_Before._

“I would have been in a few years”, the voice continued, dropping a bit, “But not now.”

“We always knew that I’d be the one dying first.”

The other huffed, air washing over James’ neck. He jumped and turned around, trying to see him, find him, but he was nothing but wind dancing around him in teasing beauty.

“We were wrong.”

“Yes”, James agreed, “We were.”

Finally, as if he was tired of teasing, Q stepped out of his cloudy hideout and in front of James, his eyes filled with sadness and tears. He didn’t have his glasses, and his hair was as messy and fluffy as it was before.

He had missed this sight, and couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle Q’s hair affectionate, happy to feel that they were just as soft and lovely as they used to be. He turned his head, looking around.

“So this is heaven?”

Q nodded. “One possible version.” At James’ confused glance, Q continued to explain, voice quiet and soft like the soft and tender caresses of a lover. “Apparently every person has their own heaven, their home or their biggest dream come true. Most don’t even know they died, because their lives just went on.”

“Why are you here, then?”, James asked, reaching out to Q’s wings.

The wing moved away from him, but after James looked hurt, Q let him.

The feathers were soft under his fingers, and as he dug in between them softly to taste what was underneath, he felt Q give a shudder, and saw his face flush delicately in a shade of pink James had not seen in a while.

It had been five months, two days and seven hours, if time was the same here.

James had last kissed Q on his cold, blue lips, and to see them red, pouty and swollen again made heat rush through his veins and up to his brain; made him want to take Q into his arms and lay him down on the ground, so he could taste his skin again.

Softly, he tucked on a wing, trailing up to his spine and to the next, enjoying white feathers soft like Q’s hair. The other leant into the touch, ending up in James’ arms.

“Because my heaven couldn’t be complete.”

James frowned. “Why?”

Q looked up through wide eyes, smiling softly. They shone like emeralds, a bright beautiful green James found himself gasping at, because it had never been so intense before. It was heavenly.

“Because you weren’t there. I could never be happy without you.”

“So this is our heaven now?”

Q drew away to turn around, looking at the tiny house in the middle of the field they were standing on. A few moments before, there had been bright, white light, and now he saw flowers, grass, everything colourful and beautiful, like he had always imagined it to be.

He had only never thought that he’d be welcomed here.

There only had been horror, pain, and loss in his life, he had killed and hurt and wounded. Why should there be a place in heaven for him? He had done nothing good in his life except for making women come, but he doubted that this counted as anything.

If it counted, then only because it spoke of voluptuousness and lust, and if he remembered the short bible lessons of his past, then it was something god or whoever was in charge wasn’t fond of.

“Yes”, Q hummed, wings fluttering behind his back, “Do you remember what we used to talk about?”

“We wanted to move to the country.”

Q nodded, turning around to James again, folding the wings behind his back with only the tips above his shoulders and above the ground. “We wanted to move away from everything. I wanted to play music for you all day and you wanted to shoot birds, writing and kissing me whenever you want.”

“We wanted to grow old together there”, James took a step forward, finally understanding what Q was implying, “You look younger.”

“The lines of worry and stress are gone.” Q lifted his hand, caressing James’ naked chest, fingers running down to his hips.

James wore trousers, but nothing more, strangely. He had died in a suit.

“Just as your scars are gone. Your wrinkles.”

“Are they?”

Q sighed. “I’ll miss them.”

James chuckled softly and ruffled Q’s hair again, wrapping an arm around his waist. He felt warm skin underneath his hand, slipping under the white shirt his lover was wearing to find the smoothness he had dreamt about the last few months, drinking more and more to get rid of his guilt because _he hadn’t been fast enough._

“I’m sorry I let you alone for so long”, James muttered as he let Q turn around in his arms, leaning down to press a kiss on his neck tenderly, “But now we shall never be parted.”

“I could have waited longer”, Q said softly, laying his head back to offer more.

“Life is of no value without you.”

“And heaven is lonely without you.”

James looked up, smiling for a moment. He felt free, lighter, as if the weight of his past was gone. As if he was forgiven, and as if it didn’t matter. As if nothing but Q mattered here, in their paradise.

“I missed you.”

Instead of saying anything, Q leant up and kissed James, his lips warm and soft and everything James could wish for, because he was alive - more or less - and they were together.

Q’s wings came to wrap themselves around James, and James’ covered them both in protection.


	223. Chapter 223

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Those shoes with this dress?", double-oh-seven's voice echoed through the room, or maybe it was just Q's head and he was imagining things, "No dear, **no**."

"What's so horrible about them?", the mark asked, leaving Q in complete confusion about what the fuck was going on.

James had gone off-radar shortly after landing in America, again, and had only now come back. For a moment Q had thought something had gone wrong, but James' red dot had been there all the time, just no steady audio to hear what he was doing.

Their last argument still was in Q's mind - in fact, he wasn't sure if he could ever forget it.

It had gone like every argument, but this time Q had left the flat and gone to Eve's to cry, and James nearly killed himself by drinking four bottles of scotch in half an hour.

A day later, he had been assigned his next mission, and later that day he was gone.

No time for Q to apologise.

No chance for him to explain why it had bothered him so much, not the slightest chance to try and fix what they had. Now it bothered him, clawed at his mind and left him raw, and he felt like the biggest idiot in the universe even though it had been James' fault.

He knew what he had gotten into after their third date, and he knew that James' work was important, but he didn't have to flirt with every mark, and put them into bed while Q was listening.

Though, the Quartermaster wasn't sure whether he preferred this, or whatever James was doing now.

Q threw a glance at Eve who just shrugged, listening just as intently as his minions. They tried to get into a camera close by, or at least a phone, to see what the agent was doing.

"The colours don't match." James gave an audible hum, before sighing dramatically. "My boyfriend would know which colour to take. He's better at colours, but horrible in chosing the right clothes."

Q went pale, and blinked.

No one was supposed to know. They' had kept it a secret from everyone but Eve, and now... what the bloody hell was James doing?

"You keep on talking about him", the woman continued to speak, her intonation curious, "Tell me more?"

"I'm not sure if he'd want me to", James laughed softly, "We haven't been together for long. A month, maybe."

"Maybe?"

"A month and two days."

She chuckled, far too high for Q's ears when it was directly into them through earphones, making him flinch and sink down a bit. God no, he thought, James, don't you fucking dare.

"So how is he?"

"Wonderful. Good with colours as I said - no, not that dress. Dear, put that down or god help me." For a moment, there was silence, but then 007 continued talking, as if he was chatting with a good friend over a glass of wine. "Your fashion sense is worse than his."

"Why, does he wear dresses?"

James huffed audibly. "Well, he did once. After I asked nicely. You should have seen him, curves a woman would be jealous of. And that ass."

Q blushed and tried to resist the urge to bang his head against the desk, embarrassed so much he was beyond the point of caring for his minions, who could listen, and see his reactions.

It wasn't hard to put one and one together, not when Q was this horrified.

"Please tell me you're not meaning **this** serious."

"What's wrong with the skirt? Don't make comments, you hurt my feelings."

"I'm sorry dear", James said softly and warmly, before smirking - Q couldn't see him, but he knew his lover, and he knew he either was scowling or grinning, "You want to look good for Rick, right? So do yourself a favour and put that thing down."

"What would I do without you?"

"Stay alive", Eve commented from her spot next to Q, one of her delicate eyebrows raised in disbelief, "Q, is he-"

"Yes", the Quartermaster breathed out, eyes wide in shock, "He is.""

"Why?"

"No bloody idea."

On the comms, James was giving tips for styling and dressing correctly, always throwing in a reference about his boyfriend, who "only wears cardigans, and they make him look older than he is" and who apparently was far too cute for his own good.

By now, everyone knew who James was talking about.

And if they were smart, which they were because otherwise he wouldn't have given them this job, they knew that James wasn't just making this up. This was his way of apologising, and of outing the two of them.

Without asking Q first, but behind all this embarrassment, he could feel himself forgive his agent.

As much as he would like to make him suffer for longer, he wasn't a masochist, and hurting James would get himself hurt.

"That dress looks gorgeous-" Q had never heard James say this word, and it made him blink in surprise. "-take it."

"But which shoes?"

"My boyfriend would go for those", James replied, "Or these. I'd advise not to take either."

Q huffed. Such an arse. His ability to choose clothes was just perfectly fine, thank you.

"Don't insult your boyfriend that much. Imagine how he'd react would he be able to listen to you right now", the mark scolded and the clicking noise of high heels was audible, followed by an appreciating hum from James, "He'd be angry."

Not only, Q corrected her, pale like he had seen a ghost and shoulders sinking down. He was angry, embarrassed, shocked, and honoured. Kind of. He wasn't sure about the latter, but it was kind of... cute. In a weird way.

James laughed. "Believe me, knowing him he'd blush and get red."

Q's blush got redder, took an interesting shade of pink. "'m not."

"You have to apologise to him, promise?"

"I promise."

The Quartermaster gave a soft smile, _this romantic bastard_. "You're forgiven..."


	224. Chapter 224

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blacknwhitecow asked: Can you please write a fic where Moneypenny convinces Q to play Fuck, Marry, Kill. But can you have Q pick Bond to marry and Bond just so happens to walk in when he says it. for Q's Fuck and Kill you can pick who he chooses. It would make me really happy if in the end Bond kisses Q and tells him he would love to marry him.

“I give you three names”, Eve started, giggling over her cup with coffee, though he wasn’t sure if it really was coffee or not alcohol, “And you have to tell me Fuck, Marry, Kill.”

“That’s this funny game you wanted to play with me?”, Q asked, raising an eyebrow.

Eve nodded enthusiastically and poured some new tea into his cup, at which he sniffed sceptically. It smelled like tea, tasted like tea, and maybe was tea, but he knew Eve and he didn’t trust her.

Not when he had caught a glimpse of her scotch bottle under the table.

“Yes”, she smirked, “Trust me. It’s hilarious. Are you in or not?”

“Why can’t we just play poker or any game with at least a bit of a challenge behind?”

“Because you count cards.” Q opened his mouth to protest, but Eve lifted her index finger to point at him. “No. Sush. You do, there’s no use in denying it.”

Q sighed and leant back, breathing out through his nostrils. He wasn’t up to it, would rather work or do something productive and useful, but she had convinced him to be here instead of monitoring 004’s mission. She’d be fine with the minions, for the bit of break Q planned on taking.

“Okay. So, three names?”

Eve, pleased with herself and highly amused, thought about it for a moment, pressing her fingers under her chin like that one character from the show he had caught a minion watching once, something with a detective and cases. He hadn’t paid much attention, but that gesture was one he could remember having seen in an episode.

“Let’s see…”, Eve hummed, before her eyes sparkled in mischief, “Me, M, Bond.”

“That’s not very creative.”

“No one said anything about being creative, so shut it.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked at him waiting. “Go. Fuck, marry, kill.”

Q huffed out a laughter at her impatience and ran a hand through his hair, pushing away wisps which were covering his eyes. He really, really didn’t feel like playing her stupid game, but there was little he could do, was there?

If he didn’t want her to take revenge on him, then he’d have to get along.

“Okay…”, he wet his lips in thoughts, “Let’s see…”

“Don’t let me wait, Q, you’re evil!”

He paused. “Someone’s curious.”

“Well yes”, Eve snorted, “I’ll get to hear who you want to marry. And kill. Maybe I’ll help you, if it’s the last option.”

“Why would I want to kill Bond?”

“He destroys your equipment”, Eve said, “He mocks you, flirts with you, goes off-radar all the time. Plenty reasons to kill him, mmh?”

The Quartermaster gave a short chuckle of amusement, before he leant back in his chair, sipping at his tea. Tasted like tea. Maybe she was playing nice.

He got drunk so horribly quickly, it was embarrassing.

“If you keep on trying to influence my answers, I’ll go and you’ll never know.” He leant forward with a mysterious expression, only stopping as their noses were a few inches away. “Do you want to know?”

“Q stop that shit. Now. Tell me or I’ll mix more alcohol into your tea.”

He put his cup down and pushed it away from him, clearing his throat. If she was this desperate to have some rumours to spread…

“Fuck Mallory.”

Her eyes went wide, and her mouth hang open a bit. “What? Why?”

“Well, ‘cause he’s handsome”, he smirked, “And he’s male. And I’m sorry dear, but I won’t fuck you unless you suddenly grow a cock to go with your breasts.”

Eve tried to look hurt, but her curiosity got the better of her and she stayed silent, not saying anything. She only gestured him to keep on talking, fingers twitching as if she wanted to write it down.

“Keep on talking”, Eve said impatiently, narrowing her eyes.

“Kill…”, Q hummed and let her suffer for a few moments, “Well. You.”

“What?!”, Eve shrieked, leaning back on her chair, glaring furiously. “Why would you want to kill me?”

“Because you forced me to play this game!”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck Mallory. You should pay attention if you want to spread rumours.” Q chuckled. “So, what was the third?”

“Marry.”

Q looked up at the ceiling to think better, letting out air through his nostrils. Good question. He only had one option left, of course, so it was clear that it would be Bond, but how could he explain it without letting her know about his crush on the blonde agent?

It probably was impossible, he thought, sighing to himself.

“Marry…?”

“Bond.”

“And why? Only because he was the last one left or is there something you have to tell me, my dear Quartermaster?”

Q blushed and was just about to say something as there was a hand resting on his shoulder, and a voice murmuring into his ear. It took all his self-control to not just jump out of his skin, and he gasped in surprise.

“I’d love to marry you, Q, just tell me when and I’ll get the rings”, Bond mumbled softly and put two fingers under Q’s chin to turn his head, pressing a kiss on his lips.

Q froze, blinked, and felt himself kissing back almost instinctually, Bond’s lips skilled yet soft and tender against his own. He could hear Eve squeal, and thought he’d seen a phone from the corner of his eyes, but then Bond drew away already.

“What are you doing here?”, Eve asked.

“I have a meeting with M”, Bond replied with a smirk and walked over to the door leading to M’s office, “Call me Q. We have to plan a wedding.”

As the agent left and closed the door behind him, Q blushed in a deep shade of red and looked down, hearing Eve chuckle and type on her keyboard.

“Please tell me you didn’t take a picture of that and please tell me you don’t plan on sending it to every minion of mine you know”, he mumbled against his hand after having lifted it to his face, trying to hide.

“If you insist”, came Eve’s reply, “I won’t tell you, then.”

Q groaned, hitting the table with his forehead.


	225. Chapter 225

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gingilocks101 asked: Are you still taking prompts? I've had an idea of maybe an AU set in a hospital: Q works in IT, Eve is a paramedic and Bond is the sexy doctor or something?

“There he goes again.”

Q looked up from his computer and stopped typing, pushing his glasses up.

Who? If Eve was talking about him, then it could only be a doctor, because apparently they all were sex gods and totally delicious, and she’d like to ravish each and every single one of them, or all together at once. Q had developed a habit of not listening to her if not necessary, because most words leaving her mouth made him blush.

But now he could see what – or rather who – she was talking about, and it made him look down immediately before he could be seen, sinking down a bit to hide.

“Don’t tell me you’re not over your crush yet”, Eve teased and patted him on the shoulder, checking her phone to see if a new emergency came in.

The MI6 was the best hospital in the area, with the most competent doctors and the newest gadgets made to save lives. It unfortunately meant that the guys from IT, Q included, didn’t have much of a free time.

Calls to put through to a doctor or a helper close to the location, computers to repair, gadgets to check, new ones to test. Sometimes they had to deal with a production mistake in their machines and then they had to run through the whole corridors, back again, up to the surgery room just to help get the operation done.

Most of the times Q could sit behind his desk, type happily and take google down when he was bored.

One time, though, when he had repaired a X-ray apparatus, he had met the infamous Doctor James Bond, and immediately fallen for him.

Everyone in the hospital knew him.

The handsome doctor with the blonde hair, the blue eyes and the charming grin, flirting with everyone from patients to interns to the doctors, and apparently also the guys from IT. Q had been his latest victim, and now he couldn’t get him out of his head.

It certainly did **_not_** help that lately, Bond chose the longer and more complicated way through IT to get to his patients, and all that probably just to make Q blush and tease him a bit.

He didn’t know why he had attracted Bond’s attention, but he wasn’t sure whether he should be annoyed, glad, or both. Probably both, Q thought, sinking down further as Bond came closer, about to pass Q’s desk.

“Hello doctor”, Eve said with a wink, making Bond stop right in front of Q. “No emergencies today – no lives to save?”

“Not yet”, Bond gave her his smile, before turning his attention to Q. “Hello, Q.”

Q blushed, wetting his lips. “Hello, doctor.”

“You were avoiding me lately”, the doctor kept on talking, either completely oblivious to Q’s discomfort or he bathed in it, “Any reason?”

“What makes you think I am avoiding you?”

Even Eve snorted, but she stayed silent, letting the two men talk to each other. Q could have killed her for that, she could distract Bond or make him go, but instead she was amused.

“You sent a minion up the last time I needed some help with my computer.”

“I’m not the only one working here”, he huffed, finally looking up.

Huge mistake. Q blushed deeper and looked down again, only seeing the glimpse of Bond’s amused smile from the corner of his eyes. Stupid doctor. Stupid crush. Stupid everything.

Next time, he should set fire to Bond’s computer, and not help him.

No, he wouldn’t. Because it all was Bond’s fault, his and his appearance’s.

“But you are the most competent”, Bond protested, leaning down until his lips were inches away from Q’s, “Please, next time, could you come up? I promise I’ll make up for your time.”

With that, the doctor left in a swirl of his white coat, making him look like an angel and not like a doctor. With his blonde hair, blue eyes, and handsome smile, it was no wonder so many fell for him. Q was no exception, and he hated it.

“Such an arse”, he huffed, turning to his computer.

Eve blinked. “Pardon?”

“I said he’s an arse.”

“Insulting him won’t help you with your crush, Q”, Eve said softly.

“I know.”

“Good luck trying to forget him, I have work to do”, she patted his back before she left him alone, and Q sighed, running a hand through his hair.

The next time Bond needed help, Q went up and tried to be as annoying as possible.

None of his minions asked why he limped or hid his neck as he came down again, because everyone knew.

It was that obvious, yes.


	226. Chapter 226

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Based on this photoset by shipimpala](http://shipimpala.tumblr.com/post/44944260790/00q-au-bond-is-a-billionaire-q-is-underrated)   
>  [Part 1](http://iamnotoneofthem.tumblr.com/post/44971985180/based-on-this-photoset-by-shipimpala-xx-xx)   
>  [Part 2](http://iamnotoneofthem.tumblr.com/post/45451471582/based-on-this-photoset-by-shipimpala-part-1-xx)

"I'm not your personal whore", the boy said one evening after James picked him up again, kissed and fucked him senseless and was prepared to leave, just having been about to close the door behind him, "Don't think that."

James turned around again and leant against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow. "No one ever said that."

The boy, apparently he liked to call himself Q, and James had no idea about why, clung onto the sheets wrapped around his bony body like he was afraid to be attacked.

His skin shone in the light of the rising sun, making him look paler than he probably was. Between the dim atmosphere of the restaurant, to James' rather dark room to this there was little difference in Q's skin.

But right now it wasn't as pale, even had a bit colour. James felt the urge to kiss it and taste it again, like he had during the whole night over and over again, and his fingers twitched.

He let out a long breath, craving for a cigarette.

"You pay me for sex, there's hardly any space up to a whore."

"If you want me to never show up again just say it", James said coldly, "There are enough people out there who'd happily take your place."

There was something very striking about Q's expression which James took for the perfect way of illustrating _ira_ , anger, hurt, a combination as dark as his hair and his eyes when James pushed into him, the same kind of pain he tried to not display every time he saw the older man come to the piano.

James wasn't blind, he knew how to read people, and this boy was like a book.

With his words singing the melody of a book not yet written, filled with love and tragedy and a lover's death, but not the literal kind, not the devastating loss of a person, but of oneself. Of drowning and being pulled down further, a mermaid's kiss turning the body into stone and the soul into nothing, and the purest feeling of _love_ cursing through the veins with the last breath taken.

It was as easy as staring at a cover, and being able to read everything out of it.

Would Q be a book, his cover would show a piano, and fingers flying over the keys.

Not an expensive piano, but a broken, used old one with dirty dark wood and some broken keys maybe. The melody wouldn't be audible, of course, but one could easily make it up.

Some crooked notes whenever he had to use a destroyed key, but the rest would be as beautiful as Q. Shy, hesitation in his movements, and would it be the cover to a romantic novel, there'd be white roses, or lilies, something innocent and pure slowly being stained by the red of James' blood.

If Q was a book, James would buy him, and keep him forever.

But he wasn't, and he couldn't be bought, couldn't be possessed and he certainly didn't want to.

James always had have money. His parents had paid for everything, and then he'd have the heritage. Money never had been a concern of his, and he knew that people were attracted by it.

He had to wave with a banknote, and they came running.

Did he wave with two, he had a woman on every arm, and two more for a night.

But Q, he didn't seem to want any, even though he needed it. He was proud, selfish, an idiot, and it made James want him even more.

"So that's what this is?", Q asked after gulping audibly, "I'm just a place-keeper?"

"That's not-"

"Take your money. I don't want it, nor do I need it." Q got up onto his feet, wincing and reaching out to put a hand on his hips, where his arse looked angrily red, marks all over the buttocks. "Take your fucking money and let me alone."

"Q-", James tried again, but Q had already taken out a tiny box and pushed it against James' chest, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Just leave." Q sniffed, his eyes cold, but shining with tears rushing into them; their green was bright, like the green of fresh grass and the colour of emeralds. "Leave me alone."

Normally, James would already have gone.

He never had been one to enjoy drama, not when it was connected to things like this. Responsibility was someting he had avoided all his life, until he had joined the Navy, and now with all the money he had, he had people being responsible for him.

It was a lazy, comfortable life, one he slowly grew tired of.

But Q? Q was different. He was fire, and ice, he was rich in character and poor in money, and he was the direct opposite to the ex-Navy Commander.

He felt drawn towards him, taking a step closer, and closer, until he had Q's back pressed against the wall next to his bed, and his lips inches away from his own.

"Leave", he repeated, breathing out a huff, "Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes."

"I know you don't."

Q looked up at him with widened eyes, reminding James of the frightened child hiding for two days until he had returned as a man. There was fear, but James knew there had to be more.

This destructive addiction had to be mutual, it could not be one-sided.

He refused to accept it.

"I do."

"Don't lie to me", James growled, putting a hand next to Q onto the wall, right next to his head, "I don't like liars."

"And I don't like being treated like a possessing", Q said quietly, jaw tensed, "I want you to go. Leave."

"No."

"Bond-"

James crushed his lips on Q's to shut him up, licking his way into his mouth and taking it in like he _owned_ it. The other groaned and tried to push him away regardless, being too weak on his legs, knees wobbly.

As James drew away to breathe, Q's hand meet with his cheek, and he took a step backwards in shock.

"Go away", Q said quietly with an intonation like he was about to cry, "Please, just go."

James gave him one last glance before turning around and heading out, taking his jacket on the way. He threw the door closed, not hearing how Q broke down crying.


	227. Chapter 227

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day to the other, Q was gone.

They had have arguments before, and Q had stayed god-knew-where during the time it took one of them to apologise or their frustration to end in rough and bruising sex, but not once had he disappeared without there being a reason.

At least to James there was none, but maybe he had missed something.

The last mission had gone well, he had returned the equipment in one piece but the gun had been destroyed. He knew that Q was being annoyed by it, but was it enough to drive him away?

No one knew where he was - or rather, no one gave him a reply.

Q's minions had last seen him the morning before James returned, going up to a meeting with M who claimed he had left twenty minutes later.

Eve confirmed that, but voiced out her concern.

She had seen Q leave, but there had been something in his eyes, a certain kind of emptiness which still haunted her. It certainly didn't help his fear, the underlying tone of pure tension creeping up to his brain and the evergrowing knowledge that something had happened.

Q's stuff had been gone that day, except for a few impersonal items or those one might not immediately associate with Q. A picture of the two of them together taken by Eve was gone, but an old laptop not.

 _It's for cover_ , Q had told him once, and now James understood that he had always expected something like this, _should someone ever break into our flat and look for my stuff, they won't expect this laptop to be mine._

He opened it, typed in one of Q's passwords and looked for a clue, something which could tell him where Q had gone to, who he pissed off this time, what could have happened.

There were no information. Files he couldn't access, password-protected data and folders hidden in others, and all a construct only Q could look through without any troubles.

For an old computer, this worked abnormally fast. It didn't take two seconds between the click on the file to open it, and James spent days reading through Q's reports, looking through the sketches on his papers and through the books he had read in the last few weeks, checking for notes, papers between the pages, **something** to show him where his lover was.

MI6 was looking for him, they sent out a team to go and follow some loose trails, in the end nothing was successful and Q was declared dead.

James refused to accept it, of course he did. No one was surprised as he went on a hunt for Q on his own, not returning to MI6 for two months.

In that time, he went to Wales where Q had been born, to his parents' home, to his college and to his old flat; asked old friends and even partners if they knew where he could be, if he had disappeared like that once, if they had an idea.

An ex-lover told James that Q had just grown tired of him. James broke his jaw, knocked him out and spit on his back before he left again.

It took him nine months to stop searching, to stop hating the new Q and to stop being a shell. In the end, he had known that it would end like this. Everyone he loved died, and everyone left.

The circle of life, time, and death.

A year after Q had disappeared, there was someone knocking on his door.

It was past midnight, and James had just returned from another mission where he had nearly been blown up, so his mood wasn't the best and he wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone's shit, so he took his shotgun, aimed and opened the door.

There was no reaction from Q as the barrel of the gun was pressed against his forehead, no flinching, no blinking, just an emotionless face with empty, dead eyes.

 _Q_.

James slowly let the gun sink and let it fall onto the ground, not caring that it might go of and shoot him. Nothing mattered in this moment, absolutely nothing.

Q.

Q mattered, he was back, but something was off.

His hair was cut, almost shorter than James' own. It had lost its curls and was dirty, with some dried blood in it. He had lost weight, was thin and bony, almost no meat on him anymore.

The clothes on him were too big and looked like he had bought them in the closest shop, an old shirt with dirt on it, some loose jeans and worn shoes. Maybe they once were made of leather, but now all James could see was something which vaguely reminded him of vomit.

He smelled horrible.

If it wouldn't be for the surprise and the pure shock, James would have said something. Make a comment, grin, take Q to bed to avoid any serious topics.

But something told James that this wouldn't be the right thing to do.

Not the right words, because it was obvious that Q wasn't in the mood for any.

James wordlessly reached out and wrapped his arms around Q, trying to ignore the sting of worry he felt as he saw how Q tensed before leaning into him almost hesitantly, as if he had forgotten how it was to let someone touch him.

Gently, James put a hand around his neck and squeezed gently, leaning down to press a kiss to Q's short hair.

He lead him inside, having to keep the younger man up so he wouldn't break down. He was shaking in James' arms, and the moment he let him go, Q sank down on the bed and curled up, fisting the blanket like a newborn child.

Bond wanted to know what had happened.

He wanted to know why he had disappeared, who had done it so he could hunt them down one by one and kill every single one of them brutally and make them pay.

But not today.

Today he would let Q rest, maybe make him eat and bring him to the tub, hold his hand or kiss him, not knowing how far he could go.

Today, he would try to make him realise he was out of where ever he had been.

As much as it hurt not to know.

xx  
xx

"Quartermaster."

"M."

"Welcome back."

Q gave a faked smile, shaking M's hand. They looked the other in the eye, M's cold and deadly, and the faintest hint of amusement sparkling in them like the light of the sun being reflected in ice.

"Have the problems been solved?"

A gun. People coming after Q, breaking into the house, knocking him down. Four, or five, with British accents telling him that he had to follow them.

A cell.

And the same question over and over again: _How loyal are you, Q?_


	228. Chapter 228

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn’t take long until someone joined Q in the changing rooms of the soccer team, right in the middle of a game between the rival school.

Everyone was exited, the whole day one of Q’s least favourite ones.

Not only was it loud, but also totally unnecessary. Q couldn’t understand the excitement behind an event like this, because it merely was a display of strength and stupid violence labelled ‘sport’ like any other, from the basketball, to the hockey team, to the cricket team.

Even though there was something strangely interesting about cricket, it almost had a mathematical precision and rigour, a calm Q enjoyed watching, it still was sport.

Dumb, useless, nothing compared to the importance of music or the beauty of coding and computer work.

James would protest, but then, the older always protested when it came to that.

He was the captain of the soccer team and part of the track-and-field club at their school, and wouldn’t the coach have forbidden him to do more, James surely would also have joined the other sport clubs they had.

Less free time, and less time for Q to do his homework in peace because usually, he watched him from afar and cheered for him during games.

No one could know, absolutely no one. They wouldn’t understand, and they would laugh, and James needed his reputation like Q needed to be left alone from time to time – both would be impossible would they attack the two of them for being gay.

Someone put a hand on Q’s shoulder and pressed a kiss on his neck, nuzzling it gently.

The scent of sweat rose into Q’s nose, a very masculine and earthy smell making Q’s heart flutter and a delicate flush spread out on his cheeks. It was nice, for the disgusting activities having triggered it.

James wrapped his arms around Q’s waist and pulled him closer, his chest against Q’s back. The younger turned around so he could face him, lifting his head and pressing a soft kiss on James’ chin.

“You need to shave.”

“You need to grow up”, James huffed, “You still have spots.”

“Well of course. I’m sixteen.” Q raised an eyebrow. “You are nineteen and have more stubble than my father. Are you planning on growing a beard?”

James snorted, kissing Q’s forehead and nosing along his cheek. “Is that what you fantasize about in the evening, my dear Benjamin?”

Q scowled and tried to push him away, but James’ grip around him only got harder and he laughed, burying his face in Q’s neck. The fabric of James’ shirt, with the number one and ‘Bond’ written in capital white letters, was rough under Q’s hands as he stroked over his back, settling on James’ hips.

“You know I don’t like being called that”, Q protested, “What’s the score?”

“Do you really want to know that?”

“Just as much as you want to know what my codes are for when you skip classes to sit with me.” Q sighed. “It’s your hobby, I thought it would be nice and only appropriate to show interest in it.”

James ruffled his hair, and drew away to look into his younger lover’s eyes. “I am interested in your... computers and codes.”

“Sure you are.”

“I don’t know our score.”

Q frowned and looked up, tilting his head in surprise. “Why? You only just went out right?”

“It’s ten minutes after the start of the second half, and before I left I think it was 2:3.”

“You think?”, Q repeated, obviously confused.

As James let go of Q and took a step backwards, he scratched the back of his head and ran a hand through his – finally shorter – hair. He had have it a bit longer lately, and Q really had tried to accept it but it had been a horrible sight.

“Well," James hummed, "I didn't pay much attention to it."

"Why?"

Q didn't make a move as James wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him close again, hand resting on the small of Q's back. It was a familiar, comfortable weight Q pressed into, smiling softly.

"I was thinking about you." As Q only blinked at him, the older sighed. "All the time, with every step I took running on this bloody field. I just wanted to be with you again."

Q swallowed audibly, kissing back as James crushed his lips on Q's. "We just saw each other this morning."

"I know. I drove you to half the way, Q, " James said softly, in an intonation no one but Q would ever associate with him, "but I want to be with you. Literally. Not just for five or ten minutes."

"You see me every day you skip classes."

"That's not enough."

"James, I think I didn't say it clearly enough: You _skip classes_ just to see me."

James suddenly pushed Q against the nearest locker, lowering his head to bite into Q's shoulder softly. He gasped, laying his head back until it hit the cold metal he was being pressed against.

"It's not enough", James repeated, "Don't you understand, Q? I see how your fellow geeks flirt with you, and you always have to come up with excuses. I see how you look at me from across the cafeteria when I'm with my team and you with your friends, how you want to be with me and I want to be with you as well."

"James-"

"No, Q, don't say it." James looked up again, kissing the mark he had left. "I want everyone to know what we have, who we are."

"Your reputation." James scowled, but Q continued, softly pushing him away so they could have a serious conversation. "James, you'd get thrown out of the team for being gay or bi or whatever, and you'd loose all your friends. I shaun't do that to you."

"It's my choice."

"No," Q shook his head, "This is mine. I don't want to ruin your life."

"I love you, Q. What's so wrong with me being tired of hiding you like I'm ashamed? Like you are an illness?"

"Because for your career I am." Q sighed, turning his head away and checking the time. "Because they wouldn't give you a chance in the Navy. James, be realistic. People are open but not that open and accepting."

"You make it sound like you are a disease, Q!" James took a step forward and Q took one to the side, slowly heading to the door. "Q!"

"You have a game to win, James. Please," Q turned around again, sighing and looking down on the ground, "win this for me, would you? I feel bad enough for distracting you as it is."

Before James could say anything, Q was gone. The young adult sunk down onto the bench and shook his head, a plan forming in his mind.


	229. Chapter 229

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Double-oh-seven_ ”, a voice greeted James through the earpiece, and in any other given situation he would have asked where Q was, but right now he was too busy to care.

He hardly managed to dodge a hammer thrown at him and slid over the bloody ground, kicking a man into the balls and swiping his legs off the ground in a fluid, almost elegant movement, jumping onto his feet to put a bullet into another one’s skull.

“ _Turn to your left, and then to your right_.”

Just as usual, he ignored the commands given and pushed a man off his bike to follow his target – a young lady in her early thirties, and already head of a poor excuse of the Mafia in France.

“ _Would you please follow my instructions, double-oh-seven?_ ”, the minion in his ear asked irritated, and instead of replying James lifted his gun and shot into a security camera close by, smirking as the minion cursed, “ _What are you doing?_ ”

“I’m ignoring your incredibly useless commands, not-Q,” the agent replied, turning the bike sharply to crash into the car, air being pushed out of his stomach and his rips hurting like at least one was broken, but he hardly cared, “which you’d know would you read my reports, but you obviously did not bother.”

“ _Q gave me all necessary instructions before he was being sent to hospital_.”

James could hear a gasp, and blinked, for a moment too distracted to realise what the minion had said.

“ _You weren’t supposed to tell him, you wanker!_ ”

“ _It slipped out, alright? It’s not my bloody fault._ ”

“ _It fucking is-_ “

James blinked, breaking a guard’s neck. “I... what did you say?”

There was silence on the other line, and for a brief moment James wondered if he had to break someone’s arm once he was back in England to get the information, or if growling aggressively would be sufficient enough. It was all fun and game until it came to Q, something the minions in Q-branch had have to learn after a painful lesson.

And now that the Quartermaster was pregnant, the agent’s protectiveness had developed a certain kind of undertone humming along his posh and gentleman like behaviour whenever James entered Q-branch.

It was the calm before a storm, the melody played before the killer reached his victim, knife ready to slit her throat; the soft whispers in the dark alley, shadows dancing and twirling, and there was one thing you knew for sure when you saw James Bond’s eyes resting on you with the spark of a killer behind this icy blue – **_you, my friend, are completely and truly fucked_**.

Whether a minion dared to look at Q’s swollen belly as he began to show, causing excitement and happiness in everyone working under Q like they all were expecting, or winked at him – sometimes it even was enough to draw Q’s attention away from James, the agent didn’t seem to care.

They all had agreed on not letting him know what had happened.

Now they regretted it, of course.

“ _Q... he’s in hospital. They transported him from medical to a hospital working together with MI6_ ”, the underling explained quietly, intonation worried and fearful, “ _It’s... the child is on its way._ ”

Within a minute, James shot three men, broke one’s leg, shot off another one’s balls and broke his target’s neck, disgusting, horrible sounds over the communication nearly causing one man to throw up, everyone shocked by the brutality James was working in.

He ripped the chip off the target’s necklace and put it into the pocket of his shirt, not caring that he was smearing blood across the metal and the fabric of the expensive fabric, just taking the bike and getting on it again.

“So am I”, he said to the minions before throwing the earpiece away, breaking all traffic laws existing just to get there in time.

Xx

Xx

The contractions have been going on for hours by now, but by now it was safe to say the delivery would happen within the next twenty minutes.

Q honestly couldn’t care less, because all he wanted was to get rid of this bloody pain, slap James for not being here and scream his lungs out – and he couldn’t be arsed to pay attention to the correct order, because _he was in labor_.

The muscles of his inner uterus, far behind his anal entrance and the connection to his womb, were contracting and relaxing again, and while it had been bearable enough before to work and monitor James’ mission in France, it now was painful enough to make him cry.

“Dilation of eight centimetres”, the nurse said, carefully washing away a bit of sweat from Q’s forehead, “Less than ninety seconds between the contractions.”

„You’ll feel the urge to push, Benjamin, and I need you to push when I tell you to, alright?“ Q nodded absently, moaning in pain and laying his head back, fingers curling into the sheets underneath him, soaked by sweat. „Okay, push, now!“  
  
Q screamed as he did, pain burning through his veins, up his spine and over his back. Panting heavily, he pushed again and again, contractions in a shorter and shorter time, and by god, he felt like he was dying.

“I can see the head!”, the nurse shouted out, and Q groaned, letting out a sob, “The burning sensation is normal, Benjamin, just keep on pressing.”

“Do we need to cut?”

“No, the opening is far enough, but keep the equipment ready in case we need to facilitate the movement.”

Q was about to complain that they should shut the fuck up while he was trying very hard not to scream, and failing to, but the door was thrown open and he couldn’t believe his eyes. Even the doctors were shocked, enough to forget about the birth process until Q shouted at them to _do something!_

James hurried to his lover’s side, covered in blood, suit torn and a bruise forming on his temple, ugly blue and green.

Q nearly laughed out because this was the first impression their baby would have from its father, but then, he didn’t want to think about how often James would come home to greet their child with the brain mass of human beings in his hair.

“I’m here, Q”, the agent mumbled and took Q’s hand, surprised by the strength the younger man had as he squeezed James’, nearly strongly enough to crack his bones, “It’s alright, I’m here...”

“About bloody,” Q screamed in pain, squinting his eyes shut, “time!”

“We’re almost there, Benjamin...”, the doctor soothed, and as Q looked down, he could see a _living human baby_ come out of his anus, bloody and with reddish skin.

His breath hitched and with a final shout, the baby came out completely, and took its first breaths. They gave James something to cut the umbilical cord, watching as the nurse bathed their child in lukewarm water.

Q lay his head back into the pillow and panted heavily, forehead sweaty as James kissed it softly, shoving a few wisps of Q’s curly hair out of his face.

“You’ve done it, Q,“ he mumbled, “We are parents…“

“How was the assignment?”, Q asked breathlessly, and James laughed.

“Forget about work, Q.”

The younger man huffed, but took the baby into his arms as it was handed over, looking into her eyes.

“Lydia.”

“Mmh?”

“Her name. Lydia.”

James smiled and leant over, kissing her cheek and taking her hand as she moved a bit. Lydia was fine. Lydia was beautiful.


	230. Chapter 230

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Heading down to Q-branch again?”

James stopped mid-motion and turned around, putting on his most charming grin to distract from the pair of glasses he was hiding behind his back, slipping them into the pocket of his trousers as subtly as humanly possible.

Her eyebrows rose, pure curiosity visible in her features, interest a dull sparkle in her eyes fixed on him. She probably was out for rumours again, which she told everyone who may or may not be willing to listen over a cup of tea spiked with scotch or vodka, voices barely above a whisper so the cameras couldn’t catch her and record her spreading secrets.

Never Q’s secrets, that loyal bitch.

Always everyone else’s. How Tanner had have an affair with a nurse from medical branch, but she broke up with him when her husband – a doctor – found out. How they had slept with each other once again, a few months after her divorce, to realise it ‘just didn’t work’.

Rumours were of importance for spies, but information about his own co-workers stood low on his priority list.

“Why, good afternoon to you too, Miss Moneypenny”, James hummed, folding his arms behind his back innocently, “How are we today?”

“Don’t try to distract me, double-oh-seven. You have been down there very often lately.” She gave a smile and tilted her head curiously. “Any particular reason?”

He nodded, deciding to take out the glasses, amused by her reaction as her eyes went wide and contracted her eyebrows.

“Are those, by chance, Q’s glasses?”, she blinked, “Why are you in possession of them?”

“He forgot them.”

She sighed. “Yes, he does that very often.”

James nodded with a blank expression, carefully moving so she couldn’t see that those glasses were on a chain, and therefore practically impossible to lose.

Not, however, when James stole them, put them up into the kitchen and acted as if he found them by pure accident. There were only that many excuses he could come up with to justify his visits in Q-branch, and only that many times he could get away with one. Q usually ignored him when he went down, nevertheless he couldn’t when James was handing over his glasses.

It was an easy, perfect plan.

Stealing Q’s glasses, taking them somewhere where Q had just been a few moments ago – and no, he wasn’t stalking him to find that out – and then returning them like the gentleman he was. A nice chat with Q, sometimes when he wasn’t too busy James talked to him for hours straight, about topics James enjoyed.

Music, art, a bit of technology as long as it didn’t went over his general knowledge, pleasant and nice topics which made him grave for more.

He didn’t like to admit it, but the conversations with Q were the highlight of his day. If that made his life despicable and pitying, or him obsessed, he didn’t particularly care.

“A nasty habit”, James agreed nodding and made himself ready to turn around again – after all, he shouldn’t let his Quartermaster wait, should he?

“Indeed.” Eve gave a smile, re-arranging the files she was carrying. “What a coincidence that you happen to find them every time.”

“Every time is exaggerated, Miss Moneypenny.”

Eve raised a delicate eyebrow. “Every time since he has started wearing them on a chain, I counted. And before that...” She hummed in thoughts, smirking at him in triumph. “Nearly every time. Once I brought them down, twice Tanner.”

He remembered those occasions, he had been very angry at the two others.

It was like stealing the chewing toy of a wolf, only that he couldn’t act on his annoyance. It hardly was acceptable to growl at your co-workers when their assistance was essential for the  dénouement of a mission.

“Now, Mister Bond, that leaves me wondering if you, maybe, steal them so you can go down without having to come up with an excuse?”

“That’s absurd”, he immediately protested, far too quickly to be convincing, he realised as she raised both of her eyebrows in amusement. “I happen to find them, what is wrong with my polite attempts of returning them to their owner?”

“That it’s quite a coincidence.”

“They happen.”

“Coincidences?”

James nodded and tilted his head in something close to a bow, deciding to continue walking. He was already late again, Q had worked for five hours without glasses by now, and probably had a headache. There also was the possibility that he was bitching at his minions, a sight James always considered as amusing enough to watch for a bit.

“Yes, they do happen. And it’s a coincidence that it’s always you finding them.”

Eve followed him, her high-heels making clicking noises on the ground as they went through a corridor and down the stairs, apparently determined to make his life miserable. He sighed and tried to ignore her, simply setting one foot in front of the other, winking at the occasional underling passing him, glaring at Mallory who happened to pass him right before Q-branch.

He was just about to enter said, but Eve stopped him by getting hold of his arm.

Pausing, he looked down at her and raised an eyebrow, but she just blinked at him innocently.

“If you want to keep on doing this, then answer one question for me, would you?,” she asked, and as he didn’t react she took it as a ‘yes’ and continued, “Are you interested in Q?”

“What do you-“

“Sush. Are you interested in him?”

James didn’t reply and just blinked at her, which she apparently interpreted – once again – as a confirmation. Grinning, she patted his shoulder, winked and then left, leaving him alone in confusion.

He could already hear the rumours spread.

As casually as possible, he walked in, and Q turned around, blinking at him.

“Did you happen to find my glasses somewhere, I lost them...”

James nodded and held them up, smiling as Q let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, double-oh-seven.”

The Quartermaster’s smile made James’ heart flutter and his gut fill with warmth. “You are welcome.”


	231. Chapter 231

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ _

“So let me get this straight...,” Claire began again, glancing around nervously, “It is possible that any given moment, double-oh-seven appears and hunts you through the whole building just to get laid?”

Q sighed and sipped at his tea, trusting his minions to scream and panic when James would come inside. They usually did, the situation nor the circumstances mattered.

He too was checking the entrance and the ceiling, looked into all corners all the time.

This was war. A battle against a double-oh agent, and not just any, but _James fucking Bond_. An agent determined to play cat and mouse with Q, and all that over the course of a week so far.

To be fair, Q had planned this since a month, and therefore had known that this week was the best. James would return from a mission, which had started a day after their deal has been made, today, too tired to be a serious threat to Q’s single-status.

At least that was what Q told himself.

James surely had lost interest already. A man used to everyone falling onto their knees in front of him, used to women spreading their legs for him, shifters and humans alike, wouldn’t wait for a male Omega to finally let him put his hands on him. 

All this talking about bonding and a live-bond was nothing but a farce, and Bond would grow tired of it, if he hasn’t already.

“That sums it up perfectly, I think”, Q finally nodded, and reached out to pat her shoulder, “It won’t be for long. I plan on hiding from him today and I’m certain he won’t be interested in me from then on anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

Q hummed. “Quite certain. Commitment like bonding doesn’t seem to be his favourite thing to do.”

Claire gave a nervous, distressed laughter and nodded in agreement, shooting a glance towards the door. Q had thought about locking it, but he didn’t trust Bond to not just break through the glass walls, or shoot at them.

Q was fond of them, it gave his branch a modern touch, and it also allowed him to see who was coming and who was loitering in front of it to stare at him. Aka Bond, and his bloody obsession in getting into Q’s pants.

Just having been about to go to his desk, someone’s shout made Q turn around and his eyes go wide.

Bond had arrived, his suit torn, blood on his hands, around his mouth – _everywhere_. The moment his eyes found Q’s, he began to move forward, and his muscles tensed visibly, shivering in anticipation of what Q realised was an oncoming shift.

Quick-witted, Q made a gesture to Claire, shifted and **_ran_**.

He could hear shouting and screaming, panicked minions running around their desks in a mild identity crisis, and the obvious doubt about the safety of this profession. 

There was a growl and the noise of something being broken into shards flying onto the ground, and the last thought Q wasted before he focused on running was that he would make James pay for every single item he was destroying, and if the agent would have to use all his money he had.

Q jumped onto a chair and over a desk, gracile and fast, with an agility Bond didn’t have with his comparatively massive body consisting of nothing but muscles and strength.

As a tiny cat, Q had an advantage he used by cowering under a desk until James was close enough, only to run again and double, making sure that Bond bumped into several desks, threw down computers and files and made minions nearly jump out of their skin.

He knew that, would he continue this game, James would get him. His stamina wasn’t as good as the agent’s and over a long trail the leopard could easily win, so Q ran into the kitchen, jumped into a minion’s back and watched James run through the room thinking Q was on the corridors.

The cat got out of the bag again, making his way back to Q-branch as quickly and quietly as possible.

The chaos he was greeted with nearly made him laugh, crying underlings, shocked and pale faces, destroyed desks.

He’d enjoy giving James the bill. Highly.

xx

xx

The closet wasn’t as comfortable to hide in as Q had imagined, but it was in M’s office and he doubted James would search for him there.

He had heard several people reporting to M that James had left pure chaos and destruction in his path, broken computers, desks thrown down, files all over the place and a few minions with bruises on their sides, one with a cracked rib.

Somehow, he felt bad, as if this was his fault, but after M had assured him that it was no one’s but James’, he had settled onto the ground of M’s office comfortably and decided to take a nap.

In retrospect, that had been a terrible idea.

Very foolish too, and completely silly, dumb and idiotic.

Before he knew what was happening, someone lifted him up by the neck and – instincts be damned – he couldn’t move, held still as he opened his eyes and looked at James in disbelief.

M stood behind and shrugged helplessly, pointing at the door and shaking his head. Somehow, Q knew who had betrayed him, and let out a string of curses coming out as high, distressed meows.

James smiled down at him and tilted his head at him, leaning over to press a kiss to Q’s head. The cat whined, but the agent didn’t let him down, instead just cradled him against his chest and walked out with a last nod to M.

“I won”, Bond muttered, kissing Q’s head again, scratching behind his ears and making the cat purr happily, bumping his head into James’ chest. The agent smiled, scratching harder. “You lost in your own game, Q.”

_ It’s not fair _ , Q whined, a high meow James laughed because of.

“Of course it isn’t”, James hummed, “Life never is. Say a word, Q, and I’ll let you go. I know you agreed but in the thought that I’d lose interest, which I can assure you I never would.”

Once at James’ car, he put Q down on the passenger seat, fastened the seatbelt despise Q’s tiny protests, and drove to his flat.

_ You want to bond? _ , Q asked in a purr.

James nodded, turning his head to look at the cat with a soft smile. “I wouldn’t hunt after someone for sex, Q. I want you to be mine, and that completely.”

With a sigh, Q slipped out of the belt, and jumped on James’ lap where he curled up and purred happily.

“I take that as a ‘yes, make me yours’.”

_ You better _ .


	232. Chapter 232

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Part one](http://iamnotoneofthem.tumblr.com/post/46271339124/it-didnt-take-long-until-someone-joined-q-in-the)

The first person James came out to was his coach, Mallory.

A man in his mid-forties, with slowly greying hair, harsh eyes and a personality so wrong James sometimes wanted to kick him in the balls and see how he'd react then.

At the beginning he hadn't been able to listen to him. Their old coach M had been far better, more experienced, the reason James had joined the team and not left like he had wanted to several times. A bitch, cold, rough and heartless, but a good coach.

Mallory was a coach who never had been in a team before, James had thought, but by now he knew that wasn't true, and he figured if anyone should be able to throw him out then it was the coach.

Just like usually, Mallory was in his office, reading a file and drinking tea, when James came to him and confessed.

He expected anything.

Part of him was ready to be thrown out, a bigger part even felt something alike nervousness at the thought of loosing his most favourite hobby, and that because his coach didn't want him in the team anymore.

Mallory surprised him by just looking up, raising an eyebrow and saying "Have you told the team yet?"

That was the next step, telling the team.

He knew of some that they had gay friends and would most likely be cool with it, but some were homophobic wankers and they'd make a fuss. James was the kind of person who couldn't care less about someone's opinion about him. He had fucked his way through the school and gotten into more pink panties than any other member of his team, was the captain, smart and the best of his class.

And, more important, he had Q.

So they could, quite frankly, lick his arse and shut the fuck up, and would anyone dare to come after Q once it was out James would make their life miserable.

After their big game, he went into the changing room and announced that he was gay, had a boyfriend and if anyone had a problem with it they could ask his fist for further questions.

It was silent after that.

For a moment James felt his ressolve crumble, even something close to fear rush though his veins, a fire burning and a chill running down his spine, because with shouting he could deal. Silence was different, less obvious.

Silence was an enemy.

"If anyone has a problem with our captain being gay, I'm personally going to kick them in the balls and spit them in the face, you tossers!", James' second in command, Alec, shouted loudly after jumping onto his bench to look at everyone, a smirk across his features as his gaze stopped on a - very confused - James. "Hey, if you suck cocks or pussies doesn't matter. But if he tops make sure you can walk."

"What makes you think I'd let him top?"

Alec grinned. "You don't have the balls to dominate."

The rest of the team laughed, throwing their shirts at James or patting him on the shoulders, those who probably didn't like it staying silent as if they were afraid of a negative reaction.

James' team was the best, no one could convince him of the opposite.

They were a bunch of idiots, hormonal teenagers and boys standing next to each other in the shower, comparing the sizes of the things they called _crown jewels_ , but in the end James' worry probably had been unfounded and stupid.

Now to the hard part.

Q had been avoiding him the whole week so far, hiding in his computer room with weedy nerds guarding the doors, not letting James pass even after he kindly asked to get inside.

He didn't come into the cafeteria to eat either, nor snuck out of his house to get to James', spending the nights in the older's arms or under him, moaning and mumbling sweet words in the comfort of their hidehout.

James missed him. He wasn't good with all this emotional stuff, would rather solve problems with his fists or his cock, but he knew he had to fight for Q this time, or he'd loose him. 

If there was one thing James did not want, then it was loosing Q. In the short time of their relationship, he had grown independant on him, like a fish needed water to survive, a bird the air to not feel caged, and a human love to keep on going.

Loosing Q would be worse than loosing himself, or his reputation. This thought in mind James snuck out of his lecture and went onto the corridors filled with people, some greeting James, the others ignoring him.

Q was in front of the computer room with some friends, possibly discussing something James wouldn't understand would he try to.

This was Q's world, and James was about to pull him out of it, force him to something public and please whoever was up there playing chess with humanity as the pawns, please make Q not freak out or end it all.

James walked quickly and determined, pushing someone out of his way as he was a few meters away from Q, close enough to reach out and pull him close.

Which he did before the younger could react, wrapping an arm around his waist, the other coming to pull him against his chest and keep him there. He could feel Q struggle in surprise, lips parting to ask, but James pressed his on them before Q said anything, and closed his eyes.

After a few moments he could feel Q relax against him, pressing the right buttons was far too easy when James knew Q's body better than his own, the complexity of his mind and being. He knew where to put his hand to make Q melt, knew how to ask for more without having to draw away, and he knew how to apologise by doing nothing but softening the kiss.

Someone behind them squealed, someone gasped; James couldn't be arsed to care about the reactions, not when he hadn't seen, hadn't touched Q in a week, feeling like a thirsty man getting the first gulp of water after days in the desert, and he didn't want to stop but he knew he had to.

As he drew away, he could see everyone staring, Q included, and it made him smile.

"I missed you", James mumbled, stroking the small of Q's back, "See how little I care about my reputation?"

Q's eyes widened. "But your team-"

"They know. I told them yesterday after the game."

"...did you win?"

James blinked, then laughed, resting his forehead against Q's and taking deep breaths. "I honestly don't remember. I think."

Q opened his mouth to say something, but someone stepped out of the circle surrounding them, rapidly approaching.

"Hey, faggot!"

James turned around to reply, but a fist collided with his jaw, and through the ringing of his ears he could hear Q scream.


	233. Chapter 233

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Gifset by shipimpala](http://shipimpala.tumblr.com/post/46761202795/00q-au-q-doesnt-have-anyone-but-james-when-one)

India was a pain in the arse.

Normally, it was wonderful. The temperature was on the edge of too hot, but still pleasant, the people rather friendly when they weren't trying to shoot him, and the food spicy, therefore delicious.

But while it normally was dry and warm, James had been sent there in the time of the summer monsoon.

Great for the people there, but fucking annoying for him. Wet, rainy, stormy, everything he hated when it came to foreign countries, but loved about Britain. India used to be a colony, but couldn't they get their own weather?

The longer the mission had taken him to finish, the more frustrated he got, and it certainly wasn't better that the moment he came out of the airport and left the building he was greeted with a blue sky without any clouds, and a heat so unusual for London he was tempted to turn around and fly back again.

It was as if today, everything was fucking with him, from the delay of his flight back, to his phone dying and the connection to Q being cut because of the bad weather, and all James wanted to do was get home, fuck Q and sleep.

Maybe he'd throw some food in between, but for the love of the lord, please no more spicy, Indian food. No Thai, nor Chinese, just something British.

He drove to the HQ for debriefing, got a bandage for the knife wound on his arm and listened to M ranting about the destroyed car and the destruction of a house in the middle of the slums.

Five hours after arriving, he finally was allowed to go home, and also was informed that Q had been working from home for the last two days. Which meant that he either was worried, refusing to eat, or sleep, or all three combined.

Eat, fuck, and sleep. This was what he had in mind for Q and himself as he walked up the stairs to their flat, opening the door and pushing it open.

But apparently, Q had something else in mind.

The moment he had closed the door behind him, there was _something_ fluffy trying to get up his leg, leaving scratching marks and holes in his trousers he really liked, so the appropriate and immediate reaction was to kick the thing off and try to shoo it out of the door.

It wasn't until he heard a worried shout from the living room that he considered looking down, surprised by a tiny kitten whining and looking up at him with wide, shiny blue eyes, mewling miserably.

A kitten, in his flat.

Years ago, he would have shot at the tiny furry rat and thrown the corpse out of the window onto the street, but something about living together with Q had made him soft or caring, because all he did was nudging the thing away from his trousers with the tip of his shoe, and then went to see what Q was up to.

On his way to the living room he found one more cat and nearly stumbled over it, the tiny meow nothing but irritating added to his confusion.

There were living cats in his flat and apparently it all could be traced down to Q. Now the only question was why he had bought or taken home cats without asking James, and since when he was deceitful enough to do that behind James' back.

Sure enough, Q was sitting on the carpet in their living room, surrounded and covered in cats.

By covered he didn't mean that there were one or two, there were six cats sitting on his chest, one nibbling on his fingers and together with the two ones James nearly had killed, there were _eight cats_ in his flat.

"Q", he greeted a bit dumbfounded, and stopped in the doorway, an appropriate distance when it came to avoiding fur on his suit.

His lover's reaction resembled James' target's after he had aimed for his head with a gun; frightened, he all but jumped while somehow magically managing to keep the cats in his arms, one getting onto his shoulder and the others clawing into his shirt and flesh to stay up.

Q jumped backwards and stared at James with wide, fearful eyes, and the agent remembered their past conversations of Q's past, about his family and how the term held nothing but pain and loss for the Quartermaster after not only loosing his real family by the age of one, but also after going through several foster families treating Q like dirt under their shoes. His mind went back to the time he had found out and he imagined that Q had always looked like that when his foster father had come in with the belt in his hand, so James took off his jacket, put his suspenders away and walked over to Q to reassure him.

"Hey love", he hummed, carefully removing the cats from Q's arms and chest, for once ignoring how they immediately began to chew on his shoe and how they tried to climb up his trousers, "It's fine, it's all fine... where did you find them?"

Q sighed and wrapped his arms around James, burying his face in his neck and taking deep breaths to collect himself. As he spoke, his voice was small, quiet, almost afraid of being hurt, and James felt pain at the thought of being the reason for it.

"I found them on the street", Q muttered, lips moving against James' neck but he didn't have any sexual thoughts, not now, not when Q was hurt, "They were in a box, all nine of them."

"Nine?"

"Maya's in the bedroom, claiming a pillow."

James winced and pursed his lips, but tried. He really tried not to bitch about this, so he thought about what to say before he spoke. "Hopefully not mine."

Q laughed nervously, shaking his head. "I took yours away before", he said quietly, "If anything, it's mine. I..." He looked up at James with wide, vulnerable eyes, just like the kitten had earlier. "James, they had no one. No one came to get them, I waited there an hour but no one was there and... I couldn't let them stay there. I... they reminded me so much of myself and I thought they should have a home a-and... not like me..."

It hurt.

James felt the pain rush through him and closed his eyes, kissing Q's hair and gently guiding his head back down, letting him rest against him. It hurt to think that Q had gone through horrors and pain, and it hurt to imagine what it must have been like.

If he wanted kittens to have it better than him, how could it be any better than the street life a cat would easily survive? A human could not, yet Q...

"Oh Q", he mumbled, kissing Q's head again, "I'm sorry. Have you bought food already?"

"W-what... d-don't you want me give them away...?"

James shook his head and looked down, sighing as he saw the spot of drool the cats had left on his trousers. He'd have to wash them. And get a roller for the cat hair.

What he did for love.

"You can keep them, they'll keep you company when I'm gone and maybe they can make you go to home daily." James smiled, letting go of Q and picking up a cat like he was afraid it would bite his fingers off. "You need to check if any of them need medical attention."

"The male ones all are castrated", Q said as he sunk down onto the carpet again, the kittens immediately returning to him, climbing on his chest like Q was a mountain or a toy, "They seem fine and... James, thank you..."

James sat down next to him and let a few of the kittens climb into his lap, saying goodbye to his suit. He had loved it dearly.

"You are welcome."

The kitten bit into his finger and purred as James hesitantly stroked its back, and he sighed. He'd get used to it. As long as they wouldn't learn how to open doors and get into the room with his suits, it'd be fine.

He turned his head to look at Q and smiled, because this sight was endearing, and as long as Q was happy he was happy too.


	234. Chapter 234

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, and Bond took no pride in the fact that he for once managed to admit something to himself, he had fucked things up.

It wasn't a rare thing for him to do, however - and he was faintly sure Q would laugh his arse off would he know how it had happened - now he felt like he was the biggest idiot in the world.

If there was one thing James truly despised, then it was thinking like that.

A few days ago, he had somehow managed to piss off a pack of eight wolves in total, and would someone ask him about how, he would just shrug and say something about unwanted attention and the accidental murdering of one of the wolves.

A wolf who later turned out to be the Alpha female, hence the pack's interest in revenging her by killing James in the most cruel way possible.

He didn't like hanging on ropes, but would prefer it over his current situation. Actually, even the thought of hanging on silver ropes seemed tempting compared to what was happening right now.

He didn't know how they had found him.

It had been one of those rare nights Q ignored James' well-being and the thrill of a hunt under the fullmoon for the sake of working, so James had decided to do what Q hated and stay in their flat, chewing on Q's favourite pillow and leaving fur on his desk.

Minutes after midnight, someone had broken in, put James into chains and had tied his muzzle so he couldn't open it anymore, and had carried him into the middle of the forest where seven wolves had waited for him, the man who carried James the brother of a Gamma and painfully human.

With his help, they had kept James still while they had attacked him one by one, growling and snarling, their teeth on his neck, ripping away flesh and fur, leaving blood in their hateful and aggressive way; and James, the bastard he was, hadn't been able to keep the mocking comments to himself.

Now that he found himself thrown into a tub filled with pure silver, he kind of regretted opening his mouth in the first place.

Hatred was a powerful weapon.

It was like a fire burning inside and urging someone forward, a quest leaving nothing behind but destruction and pain, mighty and with no mercy for those not involved or uncaring of what was the fuel behind this rage, the reason for the pure hate James was exposed to right now.

He took it as a victory over them that he didn't scream as the silver came in contact with his wounds, as small as this victory was.

Crosses against vampires, holy water against demons and runes carved into the ground, the walls and the ceiling; silver, stakes, all that was imagination, but unfortunately, it was true.

Q had never told James if the presence of a cross hurt him or made his skin tickle, that was a subject they didn't talk about because it left them exposed and vulnerable, a state neither of them was overly fond of.

They had the silent agreement that neither would bring silver into their flat, and Q made sure none of James' weapons or equipment contained any; just like James paid attention to crosses, holy water or flammable things in their environment.

He also was the one who made sure that Q was careful when he worked with fire, hardly successful doing that, but it was a deal both of them took advantage of, and they found themselves enjoying this mutual care.

James looked up at the sky and onto the moon shining above them, round and white and _full_ , and he whined as the silver found its way through his system, burning his organs and letting his blood boil, not deadly itself but in this dose it could easily be. Would he have to stay in it for much longer, then it definitely would be.

It only was as he heard a howl that James looked down and tried to get rid of his chains and the ropes keeping him in the tub, surprised to see a wolf flying through the air and hear bones breaking as he hit the ground and remained unmoving, most likely dead.

The other wolves howled and attacked, trying to fight the unseen, the invisible and quick.

One after another fell, their whines of pain and their shouts, aggressive barking turning into pathetic whimpering as their necks were broken.

Blood spilled and covered the ground, green grass turning red over a short span of time. It probably weren't minutes, and as the last fell, James could see who it was and sighed in relief.

There was something very useful about a lover who was a vampire, and had several trackers inside James' body of which James didn't know the locations himself.

It meant that in times and situations like these, it was most likely that Q would find him - he only hadn't be sure about whether Q would find a corpse or a dying body, but this fear lay in the past now since the vampire was here.

"You idiot", Q sighed and picked James up, totally unaffected by the silver from which James suffered agony and pain, scratching behind the wolf's ears and humming some kind of melody James vaguely recognised.

It took him a bit, but to his defense the silver inside him was doing a wonderful and impressive job in killing him slowly, and he couldn't think clearly because his instincts were screaming in pain and half of his mind could only join them.

"I don't even want to know how you managed to piss them off this time", Q continued to humm, only stopping when he had to speak and even then his words were spoken in the rhythm of the melody, light and cheerful to hide his worry and fear.

James knew his lover, and knew when he started to sing or humm 'Swan Lake' or any other classical song he grew up with, then it was time to be concerned, if only for his own well-being.

"Just get the silver out", James growled, spitting some of the liquid out, feeling it burn his tongue, " **Now**."

"Someone's impatient."

The wolf gave a pathetic excuse for a snarl and lay still as Q took off the ropes, hands brushing over the wounds to see how bad they were. It'd take James a while to heal, but he had have worse.

The silver was the problem, and Q had long ago found a sufficient way of getting it out.

He bit into James' neck and began to suck, apparently - and surprisingly - capable of sucking out the silver, but not James' blood, at least not all of it. It was a weird sensation to be sucked out, but by now James was used to it and in any other situation he would have found joy and pleasure in it.

Right now he just wanted to pass out, which he promptly did as Q finished and spit out the last bit of silver, the last thing the wolf felt being his lover's cold hands picking him up gently, and the wind stroking through his coat as Q began to run.

Unconsciousness was a relief.

It was peaceful, easy, and everything James hated at once.


	235. Chapter 235

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "James?"

In a reflex James had developed over the course of years, more of a sixth sense and a instinct he couldn't suppress, he took his gun and turned around to Q, fully prepared to see attackers, kidnappers or a gun being pressed against Q's temple.

What he hadn't expected was to find Q standing in the doorframe, a piece of paper clutched in his fist and his eyes wide, tears sparkling in them.

James let the gun drop and jumped onto his feet, ready to get to his partner and hug him, but Q lifted a hand to stop him and wet his lips.

"What is wrong?", he asked instead, dropping his hands to his side and leaving Q enough space to breathe, sensing that something was off about him but not being able to tell what it was.

Q was tense, it was visible to the point the Quartermaster's muscles were shivering under his alabaster skin, his shoulders slumping the longer James was looking at him.

It had to be the paper, but James couldn't imagine what was on it. Their jobs were secure, safe, Q didn't have any family about whose deaths he could be informed, and while he had gone to the doctor's for the annual control MI6 ordered his results had been normal.

James was at loss of what to say, so he offered silent comfort and waited until Q was ready to speak up.

And as the younger man did, his voice was quiet, small and afraid, and it took James all of his control to not go and wrap himself around him in protection.

"I'm... I just got my results for my medical examination..."

Bond frowned, for several moments too confused to properly respond. Taking the silence as the order to keep on talking and explain himself, Q continued.

"I'm..," Q looked down, blinking rapidly to keep the tears away, "James, I'm pregnant."

"You... you are..."

Q nodded, putting a hand on his flat stomach, rubbing circles on it with his thumb. "I'm pregnant. James I can't..."

Never had James been this quick in his movements, this determined and unsure at the same time, an inner turmoil making his stomach turn and his heart twist in his chest as he wrapped his arms around Q and kept him close, gently guiding the other's head to his shoulder where he knew it was the most comfortable for the young man.

Q curled against him and sobbed, tears soaking the fabric of James' shirt slowly.

Both were silent, and in this time James made a decision he never expected to regret, not now, or ever.

The next day, he turned in his resignation, and told M that he would take Q with him. One day, they might return, but right now his main goal and concern was to keep Q and their child safe, and MI6 came after.

It wasn't hard to convince Q of the importance of this decision, and it wasn't hard to make him agree if only a bit hesistant, unsure about whether he could leave his country, his job and his life behind this easily.

There was nothing keeping them here, and nothing could stop them from leaving the country and travelling to an island close to Italy, surrounded by nothing but water.

They travelled by ship because Q didn't want to fly and James didn't want to upset or scare him when he was in this state, so he accepted the fact that it would take them a bit longer and stayed in the cabin almost all the time when he didn't have to make sure that their ship was on course.

One may call it paranoia, but James didn't trust anyone but himself to sail the ship his pregnant lover was on, even with the troubles connected to it.

The ship brought them to the island which used to belong to James' mother, and the mansion there was bigger than anything Q had ever seen, judging from the surprise written across his features and the way his eyes widened.

They had a fully functioning electricity system connected to the mainland, wi-fi, and everything one might need.

James planned on staying here until their child was born and possibly longer, because while he had never been able to imagine a life in peace without adrenaline and danger, he found himself enjoying the time spent together with Q.

Watching the sun disappear in the evening, bathing in the reddish light falling down on them. Going through the garden and cuddling in the grass, bathing together, just living life in all its peace.

Sometimes James had to go and get food and other things they might need, and on such an occasion he returned to find Q sitting on the carpet, naked and with his legs crossed, rubbing circles on his swollen belly.

He had long ago started to show, the curve of their baby growing inside him, life under his skin whenever James touched him, stroked up his belly and kissed it, talking even though he knew he couldn't be heard.

James sunk onto the ground next to him and wrapped his arms around Q, kissing his neck. "Something bothering you, love?"

Q shook his head and cuddled close, slipping a hand under James' shirt and moving up his chest, trailing scars and muscles he had grown familiar with months ago. He knew James' body by hard, and knew which buttons to press.

"Not really, no", Q hummed and lifted his head, kissing James on the lips, "I was wondering if you'd like to have sex with me, or if you'd rather not that I am round."

James was dumbfounded for a moment or two but then smiled, moving the two of them so he was on the ground, and Q straddling his hips. He would like to press him down and take him there, with Q's body underneath his, but it was too much of a risk and there was no way James would do anything to endanger his baby's life.

"I'd love to", James mumbled, reaching down to let his fingers graze over Q's legs, to his inner thighs, up to his cock which twitched under his touch, slowly growing hard and thick as he began to stroke it, "With pleasure, Q."

**Author's Note:**

> http://rerumfragmenta.tumblr.com/post/40272665865/00q
> 
> Fanart by rerumfragmenta for this work!


End file.
